Alan Harrison and the Apprentice of Death
by Luthengrad
Summary: After losing his family, Death offers Harry the opportunity to ensure his younger self/son has one. Catch is, it's a secret. So the Boy Who Lived vanishes, as does James Potter's corpse. Sirius isn't happy, he's got a godson to rescue. Time-travel
1. The Father Who Lived

**Chapter 1: The Father Who Lived**

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. So as much as Vernon Dursley disliked people driving down his street at three in the morning, he probably preferred it to the impossible comings and goings of the strangely dressed people earlier on. A car rolled to a stop outside number four and a man got out. In the dark it was hard to see much beyond his dark, messy hair, and the glint off his round glasses.

Not pausing to admire the well kept garden, merely sticking a note to the door, the man silently retrieved the basket and turned back to the car. He looked down to see that his burden had stirred briefly, mumbling, "Da..." before closing his eyes and falling back to sleep. Now with a smile.

"Sleep little guy, you're safe now," the man murmured back as he transferred the boy to the baby seat. "Your mother never wanted you to live with those... creatures."

The car drove off, not waking anyone. The Dursleys slept on, not knowing how close they came to housing a freak, not knowing they would be interrupted that evening by Albus Dumbledore's unwelcome questions.

They drove out of Surrey, pausing briefly in a park, where the man pulled out a wand and waved it over the baby, basket and letter. Satisfied he'd undone the various unwanted charms and enchantments, he cast two fiddly charms of his own on the boy.

Before continuing on, he read the letter and snorted. A letter wouldn't be enough, especially one as assuming as this, to convince the Dursleys to care for their nephew. He saw it for what it was, a vehicle for a magical compulsion. One which made him glad he'd acted so early. Teasing it apart with his wand, he cancelled half or so of the spells, letting the others anchor to him.

The man yawned. It had been a long day; breaking fundamental magical and physical laws, goblin negotiations, and furtive early morning kidnapping. He could sleep on the plane.

* * *

**21 hours earlier**

In the basement of St Mungo's are a series of rooms that no witch or wizard ever wishes to visit. Even more than the rest of the hospital. Yet, the majority of them will, at least once. Lying on the stone benches, were two bodies. One with messy black hair, the other long red. A man and wife.

There are certain rules that even magic can't break. Such has the return of the truly dead. No amount of wishing would achieve it. So it would have severely shocked any of the coroners who had yet to arrive, that the bodies of James and Lily Potter appeared to be breathing. As if merely asleep.

"Honey, wake up!" the red head called, after turning her head towards her husband.

"Wha? Ginny?" Came the groggy reply.

"Yes dear, remember our talk?"

The man sat up quickly, his hazel eyes darting around the room. "Oh, right. King's Cross. Again."

"Yes, now quickly, I can't possess your mother for very long."

"This is wrong on so many levels," Harry in James' body muttered under his breath as he found a scalpel on one of the benches.

"I know, I feel really dirty, but for you and Albus... I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. Now let's do this," he soothed, running the scalpel across his palm and across hers, "You know the words?"

"Of course. _I give you this blood, and entrust my son to you, that you would protect him and hold him._"

"_I accept this blood, and swear to care for your son, to protect him from those against him, to hold him in my heart and home._"

"_So mote it be._" The finished together, both wincing as a bright rose gold filled the room. With a sigh, the red head's eyes closed and her breathing stilled.

"Look after James for me, and hopefully I won't see you for a while." Harry whispered, kissing her on forehead.

Now he just had to break out of St Mungo's. Which really couldn't be that much more difficult than Gringotts or the Ministry. He looked down at the rather revealing smock that was all his father's dead body had earnt. He'd have to cover up his departure too.

First things first, he needed a wand. He wasn't too shabby at wandless magic but he'd needed to leave a false body. Without a wand he was pretty sure his transfigurations would revert within a couple of hours. His holly-phoenix wand would still be in Ollivander's and he wasn't sure where his parents' wands would be. Here? Gringotts? Godric's Hollow? Dumbledore?

Better get searching then. Harry made his way out of the store room to the coroner's offices. Surprisingly there was no one around, though the clock said it was only six in the morning.

Grabbing a pencil he rested it on his palm, "_Point me __James Potter's wand_," the pencil spun, until it pointed towards one of the desks. Harry approached and found a box labelled "Potters' Effects". Seemed that James and Lily's stuff hadn't made it to wherever it was going.

Harry opened the box, unpacked James' clothes and the rest of the belongings. He weighed a wand in each hand, neither felt quite right. Each called to parts of him, but didn't match like his holly wand. The darker wand felt surer though, and he guessed it had been his dad's.

He replicated everything bar Lily's clothes before repacking the box. The copies would evaporate after a while but he'd be long gone. Donning James' clothes, oddly thankful that he'd died cleanly, Harry pocketed the rest of the contents, before heading back to the morgue proper.

The surest way to hide the missing body would be to transfigure another into his father's but that amounted to stealing two bodies really. Deciding that he'd probably had his share of moral and law breaking behaviour for the next couple of years - especially as he had a kidnapping to get to - he transfigured a thrown out sandwich into a false corpse. Now feeling guiltily irreverent, Harry healed Lily's hand and cleaned up the blood.

Lastly, he switched wands, vaguely remembering his mum's wand being good for charmwork and cast a specialised Notice-Me-Not charm on himself. An invention of Hermione's to allow him some freedom from his fame. People would notice not being able to notice him, and he didn't need to be invisible anyway. The charm merely made people think he wasn't worthy of note and prevented them connecting him to his reputation. Or in this case, James'.

Confident that he'd managed a thousand times more preparedness than he ever had in his previous adventures, Harry snuck out of the coroner's office. His next order of business was Gringotts. He'd love to stop Sirius going after Wormtail, but he was under orders not to reveal himself. On pain of well, Death. And he'd never bothered to check where they had their confrontation anyway.

He took the stairs up from the basement to the third floor, and didn't see anyone. Then he took the lift back down to reception and made his way to the outgoing apparation point. He turned on his heel and disappeared.

* * *

Diagon Alley was quiet and tense like it had been in his sixth and seventh years. He heard people whispering, though nothing about his younger self. Though that would change when the Daily Prophet was delivered, telling all of the Boy-Who-Lived. Hmm, if he burnt down the press house could he save his younger self from that title? Probably not, and it'd reveal him too soon.

Shrugging to himself, Harry made his way up the alley to Gringotts. The only bank in the world that was open all hours. The guards eyed him warningly, obviously aware of the charm but willing to ignore it. This early there weren't any queues and Harry just walked up to the teller.

"Good day, may your veins supply," Harry began, having found politeness _very_ necessary at Gringotts ever since The Break-In, "I wish to speak with Alrok, Manager of the Potter Estate."

"Congratulations, you're the first wannabe," the teller sneered. It was a good sneer too.

"Thank you, and I suspect I'll be the only one with this ring," Harry replied holding up the Potter ring, "And I'm sure you can see the family resemblance."

"Very well, Griphook! Escort Mr _Potter_ here to Alrok."

Harry followed bemused that once again he was being guided by Griphook. He was fairly sure that the distance to Alrok's office had been longer before, and suspected that he'd been lead the long way as revenge for the whole stealing-from-a-vault-then-blasting-his-way-out-on-a-dragon thing.

"Alrok, Manager of the Potter Estate." Griphook said, neutrally, for a goblin.

"Thank you," Harry replied, entering the office. Which was marble opulence for the first half before becoming more cave like behind Alrok's desk. "Good morning, Alrok. Manager and Keeper of my family's fortune and vaults. May your gold always flow."

Obviously taking the full greeting as sweet talking, which admittedly it was, Alrok merely looked down upon him. "Who are you? You appear to be James Potter but I know that he and his wife died last night. The only Potter is the heir, Harry."

"As if things would be that simple for a child who survived the Killing Curse. This is the body of James Potter, yet I am Harry Potter. Sent by my dead parents to care for my younger self. The logistics of the first half I don't understand but the second I would like to discuss with you."

"Do you have anyway of proving any of this?"

"I'm willing to take an Identity and Inheritance Test, and even don the ring if you want. But I'm fairly sure the news of a new Lord Potter would have to be announced and I'd rather keep all this quiet."

"Let's begin with the Test before we bargain." Alrok replied, withdrawing a blank piece of parchment and handing it to Harry. "Press your thumb in the square."

Harry did so before returning it. Both watched as the bloody thumbprint spread and condensed into writing. Writing that was illegible. Frowning, Alrok ran a finger across the page, muttering in Goobledegook, and the overlapping words separated.

_By blood:_

_James Adrian Potter_

_Born: 27/3/1960 Dead: 31/10/1981_

_Head of The Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter_

_By magic:_

_Harry James Potter_

_Born: 31/7/1980 Dead: 31/10/1981, 2/5/1998, 31/10/2007_

_Head of The Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter_

_Former Head of The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Now Ineligible  
_

_Heir to House Peverell_

"Seems you may be telling the truth," the goblin muttered, reading the split results, "And yes, if we at Gringotts were to witness someone succeed in donning the ring, we would be duty bound to inform the Ministry."

Harry smiled slightly, "But not if someone walked in off the street wearing it?"

"Not as such, no," the goblin replied. If there was one thing the goblins loved to do it was screw over the Ministry.

Harry rubbed his hands together, "Right then," he looked over the results, "I actually died three times? Does House Peverell even exist? I know the Potters are descended from Ignotus. No, I'm off track, first things first, legally I don't exist. How do we fix that?"

"Legally, Lord Potter exists, he just doesn't have a first name," Alrok sneered, as if talking to a small child. Then pushed forward a form for 'personal details'. "Fill this in and it'll make its way to the right places. For a fee."

"Of course. And no one will notice?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"We know how to work the Ministry. And none of this will be of current concern, so I doubt any wizard will see it anyway."

With a shrug, Harry started filling in the form. Scanned it for any glaring issues, and the now 'officially' Edward Connor Potter handed back the form. "Maybe I should fill out one of those for Lord Peverell as well."

"As you wish."

Handing over a second form for Mortimer Ignotus Peverell, Harry proceeded to his main reason for all this, "I plan on removing young Harry from his muggle relatives' neglect, however I am aware that the Many Hatted Dumbledore would easily overrule me. So I'll have to be underhanded. I have it on good authority that the Potters had some contingencies in place if they had to flee the country?"

"Yes," Alrok answered seemingly upset that Harry wasn't willing to go head to head with Dumbledore. He slid three files across the desk, "Choose a set."

Last names: Derwent, Radcliff, Harrison. First names: Charles and Adrian, Daniel and Matthew, Evan and Alan. Birth dates wandered around a month before and after reality. Lastly each was geared towards a different destination - America, Italy or Australia - and Harry felt that he needed to get as far away as possible.

It appeared that the first and last had been set up as distant relatives to James and Lily respectively, and claiming to be his mother's cousin might be helpful. He also took the names as a sign, since little Harry was in a similar position of confused identity to himself. Though after all this only three names would apply to him, as opposed to the five that Harry had acquired.

"I'll take option number three. But we'll pass on the International Portkey, and travel the muggle way. Would you organise tickets to leave as soon as possible."

"Naturally, Mr Harrison. We will owl them to you. How else may Gringotts be of service?"

"A couple of things that are not of immediate concern. Firstly what would it cost to purchase - in the goblin sense - a goblin steel blade with the same imbibing abilities of Ragnuk's Sword, known to wizards as Gryffindor's Sword. Though something the size of a dagger would be preferable."

The calculating look in Alrok's eyes had tightened, "you are less ignorant than most wizards Mr Potter. Such a request will take time to organise."

"I'm sure it will but as I said, there's no rush." Harry paused, better not ask about the Cup, it would remove any plausible deniability if he had to break into Gringotts again. "Secondly, I believe that Dumbledore has taken, or will take, an interest in the Potter vaults. Allow only his requests directly towards the care of Harry Potter. Such as a stipend to the Dursleys for housing him. I trust you to balance hiding the truth and protecting the family's wealth.

"Lastly, please make a transfer of ten thousand galleons to Remus Lupin's vault. If he asks, say it was at Lord Peverell's request. I think that's all, bar a visit to the vaults."

"Of course, let me get an escort." Alrok pressed a bell on his desk and the door opened, and a goblin Harry didn't recognise entered.

"Take Mr Potter to the Potter Vaults."

"Thank you. May your sword stay sharp and your gold always flow." Harry said, bowing to Alrok as he left.

One long cart ride later, they arrived at the vault. He thought it might be deeper than the Lestrange vault, but it was hard to tell. It was guarded by a dragon, and Harry was happy to note that it seemed less abused than the last he'd seen. Though he still thought it a cruel security measure.

He collected a few large moneybags, and headed to the back where the family heirlooms lay. Or in his opinion the family's excessive hoarding was hidden. He tried, and failed, to summon his father's cloak, meaning Dumbledore still had it. Harry poked about for a bit not finding anything worth taking and returned to goblin and cart.

He enjoyed the cart ride back up, even if his ears popped twice, and was mildly disappointed with the crowds in the lobby when they arrived. Waiting in line really tried his patience, especially as all he could overhear were the beginnings of his unwanted fame. Somewhat tersely he had some galleons changed to pounds and Australian dollars.

Diagon Alley was chaos, the good kind of celebration rather than surprise Death Eater attack, but chaos nonetheless. More evidence that the story of the Boy-Who-Lived had broken. Harry thought it a bit premature, yeah Voldemort was wispily making his way to Albania but the more crazed Death Eaters - Bella came to mind - were still running around.

It was tempting to join in the celebrations, but this was no time to get pissed. And he had things to do. Use of a minor Repelling Charm, helped him make his way to the Leaky Cauldron. And after pushing his way through the rowdy pub, Harry stepped out into muggle London.

It wasn't until he stepped out on Charring Cross Road that he realised that he didn't really have anything to do. Realising that a muggle street was _not_ the place for introspection and plotting, Harry wandered off looking for a cafe or pub where he could sit and think.

Half an hour later he found one, a sandwich bar which was still serving the morning rush. After ordering a strong coffee and swiping a forgotten paper he sat at one of the little tables.

Now that he was sitting on his own, he realised just how complicated what he was trying to do was going to be. Even what how he was going to introduce himself was confusing him. He couldn't be James, James was dead. Nor Harry, Harry was being patched up at Hogwarts by Poppy. Which left his new 'identities': Edward, Mort, and Evan. Mort was out of the question, Lord Peverell would be most useful if no one knew who he was. It came down to Edward versus Evan. Since Evan was the identity he was going to be living under for the next few years, that's the name he'd take.

When his coffee arrived he was still trying to grasp the clarity he'd had when they'd devised this plan when he was at King's Cross. Maybe he could go sit _at_ King's Cross. Probably wouldn't help.

He had four main objectives: give Al a happy childhood, deal with the Horcruxes, collect the Hallows, fiddle with the timeline to his satisfaction. Now what could he do before fleeing the country?

Harry glanced at his watch, if his memory was anything to go by, Sirius would be tracking Wormtail down right about now and being framed. It hurt not to prevent that but he had his orders, and Sirius' sort-of-blessing. Even if he couldn't stop Sirius being framed, he could make sure he got a fair trial. He'd have to prod Dumbledore in the right direction, since his opinion carried a lot of weight. And even if he was falsely imprisoned, he'd just nab Wormtail when he returned to the country.

What else? Hopefully his donation to Remus would keep him comfortable if things panned out as they had. The Longbottoms wouldn't be attacked for a few weeks, and a simple anonymous warning would do wonders. That lead to questions about the Crouches, but Harry didn't plan on staying long enough to do anything about them.

Now, Horcruxes. The diary, diadem, and cup were all out of reach. The locket would be at Grimmauld Place by now, but Harry couldn't exactly just demand them hand it over. Or could he? If the identity test recognised his ties to the House of Black, sort of, maybe Kreacher would to. He could go after the ring, but he wasn't too sure of the defences around it. And he didn't think he'd be able to rescue little Harry if he was eaten by Inferi, or something worse. And technically he'd be stealing one when he kidnapped his son. The ring _was_ also the Resurrection Stone, making it doubly important. The Elder Wand and Cloak were at Hogwarts with Dumbledore. He'd have to deal with them later.

If he couldn't do much for the Horcruxes, Hallows or timeline, that left Al's happiness. Godric's Hollow had been depressingly ruined by the time he saw it last life, but now it would be merely newly exploded. On the other hand, there probably was a crowd, which would notice if he went in and came out with the Boy-Who-Lived childhood toys. Deciding that he'd been Slytherin enough for the day, the Gryffindor decided some rash action would make him feel better.

First he apparated to the woods where he, Ron and Hermione had camped on their treasure hunt. Seemed like a safe place to meet Kreacher.

"Kreacher!" Harry called in his most assuming pureblooded way. However there was no answering crack. With a sigh, he turned on heel and apparated.

He was right, there was a crowd around the cottage in Godric's Hollow. Considering it was the first of November, the muggles in the town were probably wondering what the strangely dressed crowd was partying about, especially since the lovely family that lived there had been killed. Or they would if some wizards with a surprising presence of mind not cast illusionary and muggle repelling charms.

Harry weaved his way to the front of the crowd, the cottage hadn't fallen into the state of disrepair he'd found it in when he visited on Christmas Eve. But it was still a depressing shadow of what he and Ginny had rebuilt. And razed. Better not think about that.

He touched the fence, appearing like any other mourner, but inwardly testing the family wards. They were still in tatters from Riddle's attack. Damn Wormtail. There were some new wards, that Harry suspected were Dumbledore's handiwork, which were all that was holding the crowd back. Judging by their non-reaction to his touch, he guessed he'd be able to enter.

Harry turned and made his way back through the crowd, wandering towards the central square before turning back. He slipped through the small wood behind the cottage. Crouching under a tree James had been particularly fond of climbing, he cast a disillusionment charm on himself. Ignoring the cold trickle with years of practise. Adding some silencing charms and a notice-me-not charm, Harry casually strolled up to the back gate and hopped over it. Luckily, the back door was still lying on the ground where it had been blown open.

"Master?" queried a spindly house elf, wearing a flowery pillowcase.

Oh no. Lacey, the Potter house-elf, who'd died of neglect sometime before he'd returned.

"Yes, follow me," Harry whispered, slipping from the kitchen to the dining room. He didn't bother to wonder how the elf had seen him but cast silencing, imperturbable and illusionary charms on the room. Satisfied that they were safe from being seen or heard, Harry removed his disillusionment charm.

"Youse is Master but youse not Master Jamsie," Lacey accused.

"It's a little complicated," Harry began, "I'm guessing I look like James but feel more like Harry? Well that's more or less the truth. I'm an older Harry who has travelled back in time to make sure things don't turn out the way they did. But to save some confusion call me Evan. Little Harry is going to be sent to muggle aunt, and be treated like a house elf."

"That's not right. Little Master is a master not an elf."

"I know, which is why I'm going to be taking him away. Like James and Lily we'll be going into hiding but not here. How far can you travel with your magic?"

"Any of Master's houses are next door for a house elf. Master Evan, sir."

"Good. Now I came here to see if there was anything we might need."

One room by room search and many replication and shrinkage charms later, Harry thought he'd collected all the useful stuff in the house. Various journals, books, a lot baby stuff - he especially liked the stuff toy Marauders - and best of all a portrait of his parents. It had been hanging in his Dad's study, and must have been yet another casualty of leaving the cottage to the elements. After promising them a full explanation, Harry had shrunk their painting and placed it in the trunk with the rest of his haul.

Leaving Lacey orders to maintain the house, and prepare the cellar as a weather proof vault before moving everything she could into it in a week, Harry slipped back into the little forest before disapparating.

A taxi ride later saw him placing the portrait on the little table in a rather dingy motel room. The musty cigarette smell reminded him of where Vernon had taken them during the episode with the letters.

"Okay, now that we're somewhere 'safe'," Lily began, evidently not amused, "You, young man, are going to explain _everything_."

"Long story short: I was given a choice to travel back in time and keep myself from being raised by the Dursleys."

"Petunia? That oaf Vernon?" Lily sputtered at the same time James asked, "What about Sirius?"

"Since Dumbledore doesn't know about the switch, Wormtail's going to successfully frame Sirius and he'll end up in Azkaban. And I'll be sent to the Dursleys because Mum's sacrifice means I'll be safe there."

Even the short version of Harry's biography took an hour or so to tell. James and Lily made for an appreciative audience, with all the right reactions - if overly apologetic about dying. By the time he'd reached the events leading up to his time travel, Harry starting to regret skipping lunch. But starting to feel vaguely ill at what he was going to have to remember.

"So, a little while after Albus turned one, the one that we'd missed came to light. Gryffindor's Gauntlet, that Slytherin stole the night he left Hogwarts. It ended up in our hands at the DMLE but none of us realised what it was. Someone must have though, since I came back from a long mission to find her wearing it.

"It possessed her and he'd waited for me to return so that I could watch. Watch him kill my sons." Harry lost focus on his parents faces as he started to ramble, "Al was so young. He was only a year and a bit, just like I was. He was smiling, he thought it was a game, when that monster stole his mother's face and killed him. The bastard laughed, said he found the irony too amusing. At least he didn't play like he did with James.

"We dueled, destroying the house. It was so hard, to fight him when he was possessing her. She fought him to end though, kept him off, made him fight, cheered me on. I won, but I had to make sure, I had to hit him with the Killing Curse. Her really. The only time I ever cast it and it was to kill my wife."

Harry trailed off, only vaguely aware that he was crying and hugging his knees. The silence stretched, his parents unsure what to say and unable to hold as they wished. Then partly regaining his courage, partly shunting his grief aside, he continued, "I was a wreck. It all hurt me, but it was Al's death that hurt the most. I don't think I believed he was gone. I'd never got the chance to know him, so I couldn't convince myself he was gone. I decided that if he was lost I would just have to find him. The Stone was a lost cause, but going through the library I found a spell used by purebloods for finding lost heirs. Not sure why I thought it would work, but I cast it anyway. Of course, magic has a habit of misbehaving itself around me, so instead of seeing where my lost child was, I died. Again.

"I found myself at King's Cross again, and Death made me an offer. Turns out that Death seriously hates Riddle, for both all the unnatural deaths he's caused and the things he's done to stay alive. I'm not sure of the details, something about conflicting jurisdictions, but deal was I come back to now, to try and do things properly. The first catch being that my soul would be transplanted to your body Dad. And since two copies of the same soul can't be running around, Al's soul ended up in my younger self. The second that I can't tell anyone who I am until I'm the Master of Death again. Or I'll die."

"That's... that's pretty crazy," James absently replied.

"Story of my life," Harry replied, "The first thing I have to do is collect Al. I think I've got everything organised." He looked down at the trunk. "Except that this is hardly very muggle."

There was a tapping at the window, and Harry excused himself to answer it. It was a letter from Gringotts with his and Al's tickets. Jotting a quick thank you he sent the owl back. Eight O'clock the next morning. He looked down at his watch, it was nearing three. The owl reminded him that should write to Sirius or Remus. He turned back to the painting.

"I'll leave you think about things. I've got some errands to run."

Leaving a 'Do Not Disturb' and a muggle repelling charm on his room, Harry departed for a brief stop in the wizarding world and a longer visit to a muggle shopping centre.

He appeared with a crack in Hogsmeade First he ducked into Schrivenshaft's for some parchment and a quill, before scribbling notes to each Remus, Dumbledore and the Longbottoms. Then to the owl post office to get them delivered the next morning.

Done with the wizarding world for now, he used the Three Broomstick's Floo to reach the Leaky Cauldron. Rediscovering that he hated all forms of magical transport equally if in different ways. Sighing to himself he apparated again.

He rented a car from the airport, and only got lost twice on the way back to the motel when his mental road map was wrong. However one of those did result in him finding a shopping centre where he could buy the few muggle things he needed. Sadly by the time he made it back to the motel the afternoon peak meant it was past seven.

Harry still had quite a while before Al would be delivered to Privet Drive. Attempting to make up for forgetting lunch, he grabbed some fish and chips and paid for an early check out. Another question and answer session with his parents later, Harry opted for a short sleep before his planned kidnapping.

So it was at midnight that Harry left the motel and started driving to Surrey. For once grinning at the prospect of visiting the Dursleys.

**Author's Notes:**

Hello, and welcome to my little play with time travel. The Harry-adopts-himself plot is I think under represented, especially compared to the multitude of Marauder Era fics. It's probably obvious that chapter two was written first and I planned on keeping the kidnapper's identity a secret, but after writing Harry's side to the kidnapping I felt this worked better.

I'm trying to keep people in character, or at least extrapolated versions based on more or less experiences. As such I'm hoping to keep Dumbledore good if manipulative. It's just too easy to declare him evil. I plan to aim more for good intentions but affected by his age. However, Harry may still have some issues with his methods.

One thing I am still considering is Harry's animagus form. Which I've narrowed down to either a Merlin or a Peregrine Falcon. And I have no idea what his Marauder Name would be. So suggestions are welcome!


	2. The Vanishing Pair

**Chapter 2: The Vanishing Pair**

Albus Dumbledore woke refreshed and relaxed, safe in the knowledge that Riddle had been stopped. Not that he believed he wouldn't return or that there wasn't still a huge mess to clean up from the war.

Such as Black. Albus' heart broke to think that such a betrayal could occur. And then to follow that heinous act with his mad attack on Peter, like a rabid dog. Though he was laughing rather than foaming at the mouth. Albus knew he was far too grief stricken to fulfil his duties as Chief Warlock, so had requested Black's trial be postponed.

Mourning or not, Albus could put himself to the task of returning the wizarding world to its proper peaceful self. Especially since classes had been cancelled for the week to celebrate Riddle's fall.

He smiled at all his silver instruments, particularly the newer members of his collection, beginning to spin as the wards around Harry built and solidified. The health monitors were spinning, puffing and chiming merrily, telling him at a glance that the little boy was having pleasant dreams. The largest and most intricate wasn't quite up to speed though, but it would take a while for the blood wards to form, so he wasn't too worried.

* * *

Remus Lupin stared at his firewhiskey. He could hear people still celebrating but what was there to celebrate? James: dead. Lily: dead. Peter: dead. Harry: now beyond reach unless his relatives invited Remus to visit. Which would never happen. Sirius: gaoled as a traitor. His pack broken and dead.

Deep within him, he could hear Moony's howl of grief. It had begun with the Potters' deaths, only growing more mournful with the news of Sirius' crimes. It was one thing to lose his pack to without, another to be betrayed from within.

He was seriously considering giving up. He tried being human, acting his way through a part he'd been disqualified from when he was eight. Maybe a werewolf's pack should be just that, werewolves.

Remus was distracted from his staring contest by an owl tapping on the window. Make that two owls. One his Daily Prophet; more of the same. The other a postal owl, a premium one too. He took the offered letter and the owl left without even waiting for a treat. Remus sat and carelessly opened the letter.

_Messr Moony_

_Do not loose faith in your friends. All are innocent until proven guilty. Listen before judging. Offer Padfoot the same chance he and Prongs offered you. _

_We all have secrets but we don't always keep them with those others expect._

Remus' stare was back. But now it was one of confusion. The first half was all well and good, empty words that he couldn't listen to after such a betrayal. The last sentence though. That was intriguing. And who knew him as Moony?

He was too hungover for this. Maybe Dumbledore would be able to understand it.

* * *

Sirius hit his head on his cell's wall. He deserved it. It had been his idea to switch secret keepers, his idea to keep that secret from everyone, even Dumbledore. He should have seen that Pettigrew was the leak. He was a _rat_ for Merlin's sake. And he should have explained himself before he ran off after the rat. It was sixth year all over again.

Even worse, he'd abandoned Harry. His godson, who'd just lost his parents. And he'd been more concerned with catching _Wormtail_. Just handed him over to Hagrid. Yeah, he'd lend his bike to make the journey that much easier but he'd got his priorities all wrong. He hoped Remus had been there to comfort their Prongslet.

So he'd wait. He deserved the few weeks until his trial with the dementors for his sheer stupidity. Crouch may be a bastard but he was obsessed with the proper procedure. He wouldn't even spend it as Padfoot, who'd he'd found to be less effected. He would relive his horrible childhood, and that horrible night, over and over again because he deserved it. Knowledge of his innocence and disgust at his rashness would keep him sane. They weren't happy memories, they were the truth.

He was an idiot.

* * *

Albus looked up from his desk. The warning chime on his gargoyle had informed him that someone was approaching. He'd be glad to welcome a distraction from his paperwork. So he cleared his desk with a wave and conjured a tea set.

"Enter," he said cheerfully just before his guest would've knocked.

The door opened to reveal a tired looking Remus Lupin. Not that he didn't seem tired most of the time but there were extra layers today.

"Some day someone is going to work out how you do that," Remus grumbled as he took a seat.

"Somehow I doubt you came just for my company. Sadly no one ever does," Albus replied looking hurt but inwardly amused that people thought it was a complicated trick.

"Of course. I received a rather... perplexing note this morning," Remus replied, passing said note to the headmaster, "Premium postal owl. Didn't wait for a reply."

"Well seems innocent enough. Wouldn't want you of all people falling to the evils of prejudice, would we?"

Remus offered a wan smile, "Yes. It was more the last bit that I thought more pertinent. Does that mean what I think it means?"

"I believe it might. That the writer knows something about secret keeping, and dare I say secret keepers." Dumbledore looked back down at the note, and mumbled to himself, "_Not those others expect_," then smiled, "The Marauders were quite fond of diversions when they pulled pranks weren't they?"

"Yes. We were." Remus answered, trying to grasp where Dumbledore was going, "That was Peter's role normally. James or Sirius were the ones who planned them."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes that had dimmed so much during the war brightened again. "Was Sirius ever the distraction?"

"Yes, a couple of times. He was good at catching people's attention," Remus' eyes widened as it started to fall into place. "You don't think Peter..."

"Never did," Dumbledore replied sadly, "Sirius because of his family, yes. You because of your condition, yes. But no, never Peter. Sirius was secret keeper when I cast the spell but Lily would've been smart enough to fiddle with the charm."

"But Sirius still blew up a street."

"Maybe, remember the first half of the note. Let's not judge just yet." Dumbledore's eyes flicked up to the clock on his mantle. "It's probably too late to include Sirius in this afternoon's session of the Wizengamot but I think a prompt trial is prudent."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I would ask you be a character witness, but I fear with Crouch presiding that would do more harm than good. No, relax, maybe visit the kitchens. I believe I have everything in hand."

* * *

Thousands of miles away, Harry - no _Evan_ - sat in an airport waiting for his plane to refuel and restock. He'd forgotten that airports were this bad. The lounge was dirty and old fashioned, and the air conditioning did little to fight the Indian humidity but he didn't care. As long as he had the little bundle bouncing happily on his knee, he was content. The baby was a tonic against the pain of his family being destroyed within by Voldemort. His little boy wouldn't be living with that vile family and would be safely distant from the old man's hidden agendas.

He felt guilty about not doing more for Sirius. Or even stopping him from going after Peter. But he had had a limited window of opportunity. Hopefully his note would get the right people moving in the right direction. It's not like he could testify. He was pretty sure his mere existence broke several ministry laws, and probably as many magical ones as his little boy. And if Sirius was sent to Azkaban he'd just have to free him when they returned. Although, Sirius wasn't going to be happy when he found out his favourite godson was missing.

A garbled announcement got his attention. Their flight was boarding. He slipped the boy some milk laced with Sleeping Draught. He knew it was meant to be used sparingly with young children but he didn't want to have to deal with a screaming toddler. And he was sure that neither did his fellow passengers.

* * *

Albus smiled, and fought the urge to skip, as he made his way to his office. Yes the day had been long, but he'd convinced the Wizengamot to hold Sirius' trial the next day. He was quite confident, though saddened that none of the Marauders had thought him worthy of knowing their ruse.

His smile became more befuddled as he looked at the silver trinkets. He examined the most important, the blood wards, and as far as he could tell, Harry was with family, was loved but not settled at his new home. Harry was healthy, but none of the ward monitors had progressed since the morning. Poor news indeed. On the other hand, that was to some degree expected; the other wards were meant to mesh with the blood wards.

But after the reminder of that morning's note, better safe than sorry. Once the Dursleys took little Harry in, they wouldn't give him up. So unless they had left him on the doorstep for almost a day, his presence wouldn't do any harm.

With a nod to himself, he flooed to the Leaky Cauldron then apparated to Little Whinging. He'd need to put someone nearby with a floo soon.

Casting a charm so that only those who knew him would see his true appearance, Albus cheerfully walked up to Number Four. His cheer disappeared when he saw the note addressed to him on the door. His practised eye could feel the muggle repelling charms and what felt like a specialised notice-me-not charm. A couple of spells later and he was convinced those were the only charms on it.

_Dear Albus Dumbledore,_

_If you are reading this then you have been more responsible than I thought and are actually checking on little Harry. I'm sorry to say that I could not allow him to suffer here._

_Don't worry too much, Harry and I are family, and I'm sure the various wards and monitors I left on him will tell you how healthy and safe he is. Certainly more so than he would be here. I truly fear once he started performing accidental magic the cupboard under the stairs would become his bedroom. He won't be spoilt either, though he will eventually know that's he's famous. Even if no one else does._

_I apologise for not being more direct, I'm sure if I had been able to present my case to you, Sirius, Remus, Harry and I would be living happily together. Sadly Vows have been made preventing me from telling you who I am, but not you working it out. Or me giving hints. Sadly that line is hard to judge so I apologise again for being slightly cautious about it. Though if anyone is crazily brilliant enough to work it out, it would be you._

_Hopefully Sirius' trial will go well, tell him I'm sorry that he won't be seeing his godson for a while._

_Yours sincerely (even if secretive),_

_It's-A-Secret_

Albus examined the letter and reread it. It was obviously the same sender as the note for Remus, and showed an even greater knowledge of secrets. He gathered the writer did respect him, except possibly his decision to place Harry with his aunt. His comments suggested that they knew each other, and on good terms.

Sighing to himself, Albus pocketed the letter, before returning to what he planned to do. Though he doubted that he would get the answers he wanted. He knocked and waited for the door to open. He didn't expect Petunia's reaction to his appearance though.

"_You_." The word was said with such venom that Albus feared that Harry might not receive the attention he deserved. "Get inside before someone sees you."

Outwardly unperturbed, he continued, "Yes, me, Albus Dumbledore. I was hoping I could see how Harry was settling in."

Now Petunia's sneer was replaced with a face of confusion. And in the silence, Vernon's voice rang out, "Who is it?"

"One of my sister's friends," Petunia replied somewhat dazed, "I don't know why he's here though."

There were some shudders as the large form of Vernon Dursley made its way from the living room to the hall. "I thought you said she joined a cult of some sort and you don't talk to each other? I'm sure Petunia made it abundantly clear to her sister that she never wanted to see any of you."

"I am not from a cult," Albus said.

"Well those clothes are certainly not normal. Why are you running around in your dressing gown?"

"Robes such as these are perfectly normal wizarding attire. As engrossing a discussion of the benefits of muggle and magical clothing would be, I was here about Harry."

"Who?" Mr and Mrs Dursley chorused.

"Your nephew, who I left in your care after Lily's death."

"She's dead?" Petunia replied paling, while Verson slowly reddened, "We don't want any of that freakishness in this house."

Albus was starting to suspect that the note writer may have been correct. He had wanted to keep Harry humble not vilified. "So you didn't bring him in this morning with the letter I sent you?"

"Bring him in?" Petunia asked incredulously, "like the milk or the paper?"

His legilimency touched lightly on their minds, and Albus could tell they were telling the truth has they knew it.

"I fear that your memories may have been tampered with, if you would permit me to check." Albus calmly said as he pulled his wand from within his robe.

"And what is that?" Vernon asked shortly.

"A wand," Albus soothed, tapping Petunia on the head. She seemed to have decided not to fight him, and the results showed none of the fuzziness usually associated with memory charms, so they were either real or the work of a _very_ talented modifier. "My apologies for taking up your time. I'll be going then."

"Good night." "Don't come back." He was farewelled before the door was slammed.

Albus held his wand out and cast a couple of residual identification charms. He could feel the faint trace of the charms he'd placed on Harry. The boy had been here, right where he'd left him. But where had he gone?

And who had taken him?

* * *

It was probably for the best that the television was so engrossing that neither Dursley looked outside to see that strange people were in their front garden again. The dark skinned man seemed normal enough, beyond the robe and stick in his hand. His partner, not so much. From his peg leg to his raving electric blue eye, no part of him was normal, and certainly none welcome in Privet Drive.

"Have you got a read on the magical signatures?"

"Four adults, one infant."

"We know Albus, Minerva, and Hagrid were here. Them plus the baby leaves one unaccounted for."

"He didn't cast any spells, so it's faint. Nearly buried under Albus' presence."

"Enough for a trail?"

"No."

"No leads?"

"Didn't say that. Plenty of residual from Albus' charms on the boy to follow. _Vestigium revelio_."

A twinkly blue light appeared on the doorstep. Two trails lead away from it. The fainter descending from the sky, the brighter following the road.

With a nod, the two grabbed their brooms, disillusioned themselves and took off. Their low level flight was cautious, lest they lose the trail. And after only a hour's flight the trail brightened in one spot before disappearing, forcing them to land.

"Out of the way, clear sight of anyone coming. This person is cautious."

"Yeah, yeah, constant vigilance." Kingsley muttered to himself as he recast the forensic spells. "Got a better read on his signature, not one registered with the ministry though. Cast a lot of spells here, almost all Finite Incantum or its stronger variations."

"Must have been trying to remove Dumbledore's protections."

"Yes, one unidentified charm. Let's see what wand signatures were here. Two, a willow, unicorn hair, at least 10 inches; and mahogany, dragon heartstring, also at least 10 inches."

"Any further trail?"

"No, without Albus' charms there's nothing. Must be continued travelling non-magically."

"Better report to Albus then."

* * *

Albus looked at the lunch tray the house elves had prepared him put couldn't bring himself to touch it. After Moody and Shacklebolt's report, he'd grown even more worried. If it weren't for the twirling of his silver instruments he'd be sure that Harry was dead by now. He feared how long it would be before the kidnapper either undid those charms or merely disposed of the boy. He would be the first to admit that he trusted a lot, but even he couldn't bring himself to trust in an unsigned note.

But that was all speculative, it was newly uncovered facts concerned him more. He'd half recognised the wand descriptions and after looking them up in student records had realised their significance. They were most likely James and Lily's wands. Which should still be with their bodies, at least until the funeral.

He'd sent Kingsley and Moody to investigate and Moody had uncovered more unsettling information. James' body had been a transfiguration, only perfect on the surface. But it would've lasted long enough to be buried. Similarly the 'wands' in safekeeping weren't real either. The magical signature was the same as the park but the trail had been lost in the chaos of St Mungo's.

He hadn't been able to identify the unknown charm. Albus was a great many things, but an arithmancer was not truly one of them. He'd passed the results to Professor Vector to identify.

With a sigh, Dumbledore began to eat. He'd need his energy for this afternoon's Wizengamot session. And Sirius afterwards.

* * *

Sirius was being serious, seriously. Or at least he'd managed to until he'd been released from the Wizengamot courtrooms. He'd been found innocent, whatsit, acquitted. Kind of inevitable with willingly taking Veritaserum, and the lack of any explosive spell in his wand. Fortunately things hadn't been so bad that he had to use Plan B - swear on his life and magic that he was innocent.

The bit about Peter escaping as a rat had been troublesome. He'd managed not give away why he and his friends had done it. The court had seemed to believe that it had been a group challenge. No one had brought up Remus so he'd avoided trickier questions. Still had to pay a huge fine though. And submit pensieve evidence of Peter's animagus form.

So all in all, things had gone well. He'd wanted to keep the animagus stuff secret. More useful that way, but still better being fined than Azkaban.

"Sirius, congratulations." Dumbledore said, soon following him out of the courtroom - Sirius' trial had been tacked on the end after all, "Now, I think it best we retire to my office to discuss your godson."

Sirius' happy mood plummeted to the bottom of his stomach. Albus' eyes weren't twinkling - something bad had happened. He knew he'd been stupid going after Wormtail without telling anyone the truth. Lily and James had said they were going to tell Dumbledore next time his visited, but he hadn't before they were betrayed. Sirius had come so close to being locked up in Azkaban, he knew that only Dumbledore's influence prevented people like his darling family bribing the court into a predetermined sentence.

"If you say so."

The walk up two levels to the Atrium and floo to Hogwarts was tense. Sirius didn't know what was going on, things were happening so quickly that anything could have happened in the day and half he was awaiting trial.

"Now that we have some privacy. Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered. Sirius just glared at him, and would've hurt anyone who dared suggest he looked like his mother. "Right then. Due to the circumstances surrounding Harry's survival, I felt it best he live with his aunt, bu-"

"Petunia? The horsey one? She _hates_ magic, and Lily, and _everything_!"

"Yes, Remus said as much, and I can now say I witnessed it myself. That is not the problem."

"How can that not be the problem?" Sirius asked incredulously.

"Harry's missing."

"Harry's..." Sirius seemed to freeze, an uncommon occurrence for the man, before the more expected explosion, "What?"

"Yes, his aunt never received him. Furthermore, James' body is missing, as are his and Lily's wands."

Sirius grabbed a Daily Prophet from Dumbledore's desk, "I take it since the headline is _"Another Day of Rebuilding Dawns"_ rather than something like _"The Potter Heir Kidnapped!"_ that this is a secret."

"Yes, we hardly need to cause a panic. He's alive, happy even, from what my monitors say. So I feel it best to wait for the ransom demand. His kidnapper has already been in contact." Albus continued, passing Sirius the two notes.

"How? How does he know all this?" Sirius whispered.

"I don't know," Albus admitted, "and yes I find it disconcerting. And yet, I can't help but that Harry is in good hands."

"What? No. Maybe he is, but I need to find him."

"I had expected as much," Albus said, handing Sirius a unread copy of _Dissecting the Disconcerting Dumbledore_, "this is a portkey to where Moody and Kingsley hit a dead end on the trail. Remus will meet you there. Hopefully he didn't cover his scent."

"One, I'm not a bloodhound. Two, a book?"

"Well people keep giving me them. Especially this one, I have at least two dozen copies of it. Anyway, good luck. Activate."

With that Sirius disappeared.

And reappeared on all fours in a muggle park.

"Afternoon, Sirius. Dumbledore explain everything?" Remus greeted Sirius like he hadn't been on trial for betraying all his friends.

"Hardly, but no time to waste." Sirius replied offhandedly, dropping to sniff the ground as Padfoot. He didn't find any unknown scents. In fact it wasn't until he was putting scents to faces that he realised the impossibility of what he'd smelt. He was so surprised that when he transformed to tell Remus he ended up still on the ground. "That doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't? It's too far from a full moon for me to get anything."

"I smelt James. But he's dead. Just who is this kidnapper?"

* * *

Said kidnapper meanwhile was disembarking in Sydney. He'd never been more thankful for the wizarding world's superiority complex. This wouldn't have been at all possible if spinning muggle identities out of thin air wasn't common practice. It did help he'd been able to more or less follow one of the Potters' contingency plans. It had meant to be if Voldemort overturned the Ministry or something similarly disastrous, but he felt justified. Avoid the planned Potter owned safe house, aim to live muggle as possible and they should be fine.

This was only temporary though, as he knew he couldn't wait until little Harry, now Alan, was eleven and off to Hogwarts. He had other things to do besides keep Alan happy. But he was all the family he had left and hopefully by the time he returned to England it wouldn't hurt every time he saw a redhead.

And he knew he'd go spare if he took a ten year long vacation.

So, cautiously optimistic, comforted that their true identities were kept secret in his soul, the newly minted Evan James Harrison smiled at his son and headed off to find a taxi.


	3. The Settlers of No Thirty One

**A/N:** Mostly a slight reorder and clarification of time line. But also, should Nagini make an appearance, and should she be a horcrux? Poll now available.

**Chapter 3: The Settlers Of No. Thirty One**

Evan had decided he rather liked Australia. Mostly because he wasn't famous. Sure he'd managed to go out incognito in the past, future, whatever, but he'd always been aware of the distraction charms. And they'd always failed by the end of the day anyway. Now he was wondering why he'd never thought of muggle cosmetics, especially hair dye before. But strolling down Centre Ally, he didn't get more than a passing glance. Most of which where women cooing at Alan in his sling.

He and Alan had been down under for almost a month. It had been rather busy. Evan had rented a two bedroom apartment and spent the time furnishing and decorating it. It certainly wasn't extravagant but was nice and cozy. And had harbour views if you stuck you head out the kitchen window. Everything he'd done so far was very muggle, bar Lacey and his parents' portrait.

Today he was revisiting the wizarding world. Wizards were fans of tradition hence the entrance to the local alley was in a pub on Oxford Street, The Griffin's Wing.

Centre Alley was full of morning shoppers and reminded Evan a lot of Diagon Alley. Except he'd be far more out of place dressed in muggle clothing in Diagon. Yet another point to Australia. As he walked he noted that the names where different, the shops in a different order, but overall there must be only so many things a wizarding alley have.

Such as a wand shop. James and Lily's wands worked but to live as a wizard, his own wand was a must. He had to admit to himself that his old wand probably wouldn't choose him any more. Alan had the scar now. Spotting a shop with a display of wands in the window, Evan headed for it. Barton and Sons was much brighter than Ollivander's, and there was a man already behind the counter.

"He looks a little young for his first wand," the speaker, presumably Mr Barton, greeted them. He was much younger than Ollivander, and less creepy. If anything the portly blond seemed overly cheerful.

Evan looked down at Al and chuckled, "That he is, I was actually after a wand for myself."

"Of course. Sorry, forgot to introduce myself, Edmund Barton. Eighth Barton to own the store." He bowed with an exaggerated flourish towards himself, eliciting a giggle from Al.

"Evan Harrison and the little one is Alan."

"Very cute. What wand have you been using?"

"Switching between my parents' wands," Evan replied, handing the wand maker their wands.

He examined them quickly, charming a quill to dance. "Ollivander's work unless I'm horribly mistaken. Tell me about the wand he sold you."

"Uh, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches."

"Interesting combination. Very _good_ wand that. Dare say it saved you life more than once. You must miss it."

"Yes it did and yes I do." Was it weird to admit that? "It was broken in a Death Eater attack. Blasting Curse hit it."

Edmund winced, and Evan wasn't sure if it was concerning the Death Eaters or the wand. "Well let's see what we can find. But I hope you don't have any appointments this afternoon."

Evan smiled, "my first wand took forever to find."

"Second wands are even more difficult to determine." Edmund began and started rummaging amongst the shelves behind him. Evan wasn't an expert but it seemed slightly more organised than Ollivander's dusty system. "When a young wizard gets his wand, his magic is still developing, meaning that even if the match isn't perfect, the wand and wizard will grow into each other. By now your magic will have settled, making selecting a new wand difficult.

"Now the spiel. I use different materials to Ollivander. About half the woods he uses don't grow here. Unicorns aren't found in Australia and we don't have nearly as many dragons either. So my family uses phoenix feathers, shadowcat fur, and rainbow taipan skin.

"Okay, let's start with these. All phoenix feathers, various woods and birds."

Evan tried out each in turn, causing quite a bit of destruction but not receiving that warmth or rightness they were looking for. Though he was distracted making sure Al didn't grab any of the wands.

"Well none of my phoenixes care for you," Edmund observed.

Evan sighed, "Some of them felt close, but not right. Like wearing my best friend's borrowed clothes." He grimaced at the odd analogy.

"Did you ever meet the phoenix whose feather your wand contained?"

"Uh, yes." Evan titled his head at the odd question, "Couple of times actually."

"That's probably it. On some level you've... not bonded, but close... affiliated to that phoenix and so you can't with another. If that makes sense."

"Sort of." Even with the mess with the Elder Wand, Evan hadn't really bothered to learn much wandlore. Probably something he should do if he was going after it again. Duelling Dumbledore for it didn't seem like the safest course of action.

"Try these."

Evan jumped a little, making Al yelp, as he hadn't even noticed Edmund collecting more wands. With a shrug he started waving wands. Edmund wouldn't say what wand was what until after each had been discarded. On the ninth wand something clicked, magic surrounded him. Not warmth this time but a cooling flow. Accompanied by a just heard satisfied hiss. Al giggled trying to catch the rainbow sparks.

"We have a winner! Twelve inches, ghost gum, rainbow taipan. Flexible but solid. Good for defence and not bad for charms. Something wrong?" Edmund asked looking at Evan who was still staring at the - his - wand.

He shook his head to clear it, "Sorry. Just surprised. Don't have such a great history with snakes."

"Don't worry, rainbow taipans are good creatures. Water guardians. Anyway, that'll be six galleons, eleven sickles."

"Thank you," Evan replied, half question, as he handed over the change. He was a bit put out when Edmund merely pushed him gently out of the shop rather than elaborate. Evan shrugged, apparently Edmund had delayed his enigmatic wandmaker behaviour but been unable to hold off for ever.

Al shouted and pointed, so Evan took that as a cue for where to head next. He supposed he should get a potions kit at some point, maybe visit the bookshop. But there wasn't any particular urgency. So he just obeyed Al's infantile demands. And arrived at The Bestiary. Which judging by the cages in the window and sounds from within it was a pet store.

"Al." Evan said in his best 'strict-father-voice', "We can look but we're not getting anything."

"Go!" was his only reply.

Inside it was even noisier and worse still, odorous. There was a wall of cats, all breeds including a lot of kneazle crosses. And an abundance of black cats for classic witches. At the back was a curtained doorway labelled 'Owls and other dark creatures'. Someone had helpfully captioned it with 'that's dark liking not _dark_ dark'.

Evan began a circuit of the shop and letting Al get a look everything there. He managed to teach him a new word, "cat!", and it soon became obvious he wasn't a dog person. Sirius would be crushed.

The end of the tour placed them at the counter, where a young witch sat idly scribbling away, occasionally tapping her button nose with her quill. Her pointed hat was covered in pieces of fur, claws and a whole snake skin that hung beside her face. In a terrarium next to her was a snake that was taking an interest in them. It hissed.

"You a speaker?" the girl asked, her watery eyes joining the snake in examining Evan.

"No. Why would you think that?" Evan replied. It was the truth. Ever since Riddle Avada'd him for the second time he'd stopped being a parselmouth. It was annoying now though, he remembered enough that whenever snakes hissed around him it was like someone speaking German. Not understandable but close enough that he couldn't ignore it.

"Sara here thinks you are," a hissed conversation between them, "correction, you smell like you should be."

"You're a parselmouth?"

"Why? Do you have a problem with that?" the witch replied her friendly demeanour disappearing. Though she made no move to grab her wand, Evan couldn't shake the impression of a snake rearing up from previously relaxed sun-baking.

"I'm just surprised. The only parselmouth I've ever met tried to kill me."

"Kill you?" now the witch seemed distracted, "Oh right. That Voldemort guy. Anyway, stupid poms brainwashing you that all snake speakers are evil. Seriously, I consider myself a nice girl and you seem like a nice enough bloke. I'm Amy by the way."

"Evan and this is Alan," Evan absently replied before getting back on track, "Really? That's not what my classmates thought when I told a snake not to attack anyone."

She waved a hand dismissively, "so they're idiots. Now why can't you speak?"

Evan shrugged, "I was hit by a curse when I was seventeen. Haven't been able to speak to snakes since then."

"Never heard of a curse doing that before."

"It was green, can't say much more than that." Or the space time continuum will explode.

"Hmm..." she scribbled something on a spare piece of paper before handing it to him, "Call me. Granddad will be curious, maybe know how to fix it. If not, help you when _he_ starts hissing." Al merely grabbed the finger she pointed at him.

"Thanks?" Evan said slowly, certainly an odd way of getting a girl's number. Not that he had much experience with such things.

"No problem, but I heard your little conversation when you entered, so unless you want to tell me more..."

Evan considered it, he really did, but bowed his head and left. He was mildly relieved that nothing concerning snakes happened for the rest of the outing. Al succeeded in getting ice cream on the back of his head. The apothecary was just as heady as the one in Diagon Alley. The last serpentine incident was that Evan included a book on snakes in his purchases from Cook's Books.

* * *

"Good morning Mister Harrison. Before we start, let me say that if your duelling skills are anything like your technical knowledge, well, this will be fun."

Evan merely raised an eyebrow at Professor Neil Montcrae's eagerness. The gangly Italian was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"I live to entertain," he couldn't help dead-panning.

"Olympic rules. No Unforgivables, no lethal curses, until surrender or incapacitation. Any questions?" The referee explained in a very Percy way. Both duellers shook their heads. "Right. Bow. Three. Two. One. Duel!"

"_Stupefy_!" "_Expelliarmus!_" Both fired milliseconds after the call.

Montcrae responded by leaning out of the way and raising a glimmering shield, while Evan sidestepped and fired three jinxes to test the shield. They all disappeared briefly before coming right back at him. Cursing under his breath, Evan was forced to twist between them, but shot a body bind mid-twist. It missed by a foot.

They'd been going at it for a good twenty minutes, both aware that they had been playing, more of an exhibition match for the examiners than anything else. A bell rang signalling that they should stop showboating.

As Evan rolled under a Bludgeoning Curse he initiated his planned assault. Montcrae had proven to favour shielding himself, quite successfully, and avoided physically moving. Like a lot of wizards. Evan sprung out of his roll with a cry of his signature move, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one to change tactics. So even though his now stronger spell broke Montcrae's shield, the professor was now dodging as well as shielding. Stealing Evan's advantage since he'd been moving the whole time and was a little sore.

Both were now moving. A mixture of silent and spoken spells flying between them. Finding that Montcrae was just as good a dodger as himself, and that direct spells weren't working, he needed a new tactic. He couldn't help smiling, no one else would know the counter-curse to his next charm since neither had been invented yet.

Twisting between two stunners and what he suspected was a Entrails Expelling Curse, Evan pointed his wand cried out "_Expecto Phasmatum!_" A silvery horse charged at Montcrae who raised his mirror shield at the unknown spell.

Evan barely had a chance to register the change in form before it passed through the shield, and Montcrae. The shield disappeared revealing all colour drained from his face and him falling to the ground shivering. Before he hit the ground, Evan followed his spell up with a stunner, some ropes and a cushioning charm for good measure.

In the resulting silence the horse cantered around to Evan, nudged him and whinnied before fading like smoke. _Good work_. It was the oddest feeling, the ice like touch of a ghost leaving warmth behind.

"Victory. Mister Harrison," the referee stuttered.

Evan bowed to accept the ruling, then crouched beside Montcrae to revive and unbind him. Though still white, he seemed just as eager when Evan helped him to his feet.

"What was that? A ghost?"

Evan shrugged, "Modified Patronus Charm. Uses grief rather than happiness," he managed a grim smile, "you were just knocked out by my wife."

Montcrae made a face, "yes, well. Head over there, get checked by the nurse, get changed and I'll see you in my office this afternoon."

* * *

"Mister Harrison, I have to say that I'm not sure I have a place for you in my Defence Mastery class."

Evan couldn't help gaping in disbelief. He'd gotten Outstandings on his newts, and been on the way to Senior Auror before... before.

"You see," Montcrae continued, "You're too good. I rather don't see the point. If it weren't for the fact that I couldn't find any record of a previous mastery, I'd say you already had one."

Ah, too skilled. That would be it. Evan's thoughts were halted by the realisation that Montcrae expected a response.

"Uh, no I don't have a mastery yet but the recent problems in the UK gave me a lot of experience."

"I had assumed as much. I can't in good faith give you a spot in my Mastery class since, between your phenomenal written exam and today's duel I'd say that nothing is going to be particularly new. However I have a proposition.

"All that you really lack is your mastery thesis. I'm fairly sure that you'd pass the final exams just as well as the entrance exams. So I'd be willing to enrol you straight into class with my final years."

"Sounds good." Evan agreed, this was really just for forms sake. He had achieved his mastery once before.

"That said, your exam and transcripts entitle you to enrol in a few other masteries and I thought since you were now no longer taking a proper Defence Mastery, you might choose another."

"What's open to me?"

"Let's see. Magical Creatures would be your best choice, you scored extremely well on those questions and it generally complements Defence." Evan snorted, experience shows, "then Warding and Cursebreaking, or Potions possibly. Charms might be an option if you modified that Patronus yourself."

"I did, haven't gone through the arithmancy of it though. More played with memories and a Latin dictionary."

"That's one way to invent spells I suppose," Montcrae hedged, there was a reason for Flitwick's Buffalo Speech.

Evan's gaze left Montcrae. What would be a good second mastery? While he had plenty of experience, and didn't doubt would have more, with a variety of magical creatures, it wasn't a career he was after at the moment. It really came down to Warding versus Potions. Potions would be good for income and a variety of things, and he could 'invent' the Wolfsbane potion for it. But Warding would cover a lot of the more secret stuff he needed to do. The gauntlet was somewhere like the fake-locket's hiding spot. Although he wasn't likely to learn enough to break into Gringotts. Or Hogwarts. Or Malfoy Manor. Nor did he have any real knowledge of Ancient Runes.

"Potions sounds good." Well he had gotten a lot better without Snape.

"I'll see about organising something with Greg," Montcrae said scribbling a note, "Now, as part of our set up here at UNSW you are expected to complete a muggle degree of some sort as well."

"Yes, I was hoping to study teaching." That had been the plan after he retired from being an auror. Teaching the DA had been rewarding.

"Good. Good. Unfortunately, without even a Muggle Studies Owl your options are limited."

"Actually, I probably should go sit a Muggle Studies Newt," Evan mused with a shrug, "I'm a muggle-raised half-blood."

* * *

Sirius Black was not a happy hound. His pup was missing and his best friend, brother in all but blood, was... he wasn't sure. Everyone was sure James was dead except the man himself. Padfoot would've thought it a great prank if it hadn't involved leaving him so damn tense for the last few weeks. And the clues they had were infuriating. An unknown magical signature, knowledge of many secrets and an overly assuming attitude that the kidnapper was a good friend. And James' scent.

Sirius had checked everywhere he thought James might go into hiding. The Shack, his cottage, the various bolt houses they'd planned. He'd taken to transforming into Padfoot and trying to catch James' scent anywhere and everywhere.

He'd even looked in the library (by which he meant pestered Remus) for tracking and locating charms. None of them had worked. If it wasn't for Dumbledore's confidence in his ward monitors, Sirius would be sure that his pup was dead.

His morning wasn't improved by the Daily Prophet's headline.

**The Boy Who Vanished**

_by Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter_

_It is this reporter's sad duty to reveal that The Dark Lord was not the only one to disappear in last Halloween's tragic and wonderful aftermath. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, also disappears off the map the day after. Even though we've been told his Godfather, Sirius Black, acquitted accused murderer, claimed custody later that week._

_Previously we had been reassured by the Supreme Mugwump Albus Dumbledore that he had been safely - and secretly - living with his muggle blood relatives for that week. But confidential sources assure me that Harry may never have made it there, and in fact his whereabouts are unknown. We, the public, respectively bowed to the absurd pillock's "better" judgement. Even though many respectable citizens expressed concern of our saviour being raised in such a manner._

_The lack of public appearances by Harry, even though Black has been far from scarce, had been explained to be because "I'm keeping him out of the spotlight until he's old enough to enjoy it." (Sirius Black) It would appear that this is no more than a flimsy cover to protect himself while the search continues. (Cont. p4)_

_For an account of Sirius Black's dark past, see page 5._

_For dirty details on the Muggles Harry almost lived with, turn to page 7._

Sirius growled and threw the paper down in disgust. Well the secret was out now. He idly wondered how long he'd be getting howlers for. He was glad that Skeeter hadn't found out that Dumbledore had just placed Harry on a doorstep, that piece of information would be severely damning. Not that he didn't think the man half deserved it.

With a sigh, he scoffed the rest of his breakfast and floo'd to the Three Broomstick's to walk to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore was looking particularly grave and rereading a piece of parchment. Rather than the Prophet as Sirius would've expected. Finally he looked up, his expression settling into its normal grandfatherly concern.

"Good morning. Lemon drop?"

Sirius ignored the offer. "Not very. Secret's out."

"Ah, yes secrets do that. I have good news and bad news."

"Eh, good news first."

"Professor Vector finished deducing the unknown spell."

"The bad news then?"

"A Fidelius Charm."

"Crap." That was nearly unbreakable. "Wait. It was cast in a park, there was nothing hidden there."

"Indeed, there is nothing missing from the park. All I can guess is that the kidnapper anchored the charm to something mobile, possibly even Harry himself so that he couldn't be found. Quite ingenious really."

"This isn't a time to be complementing the kidnapper."

"Unfortunately there isn't much else we can do. We trusted that charm and now it has been turned against us."

"Is there anything else?"

"Just another note," Dumbledore replied pleasantly.

"Give it here," Sirius barked, snatching it from the Headmaster's fingers. "_Strangers may visit unannounced to ask excruciating questions._ Is that a threat?"

"Merely a warning, I believe. Though perhaps the kidnapper is a Seer and that's why we are having so much trouble finding him?"

"Doesn't explain why he didn't just owl you his vision rather than kidnapping Harry."

"No it doesn't." Sirius recognised the look on Dumbledore's face, the man was lost in his musings.

"Thank you for your time. Now that the secret's out I not going to lie any longer."

That seemed to snap the Headmaster out of his thoughts.

"No, no, no. You can't tell them the whole truth. People wouldn't understand why it was so very important that Harry lived with his blood relatives."

"Can't say that I do either."

"The blood wards are the strongest defence I could provide Harry. But now that I've met the family I'd rather not send him back." Dumbledore waved a hand tinkling instruments, "The blood wards are still holding somehow, so the kidnapper obviously knows of an alternative to Petunia I don't."

"Do you think it's him?" Sirius asked, not quite bringing himself to voice the particular hope that the signs seemed to point to.

Dumbledore looked over his glasses, "No. James was very truly dead, even in our greatest fairy tales there is no way to bring back the dead. The blood wards are tied to Lily's blood, if her body was stolen I'd be much more concerned." He smiled, "And anyway, if James was back, the body would've been a much better transfiguration, no?"

"I suppose," Sirius conceded. Something was not right, even more so than Harry disappearing.

"Now, that's all the new information I have. I leave you to your own hunt. I'm sure you'll look in places I'll never think of."

Knowing a dismissal when he heard one, Sirius stood, gave a sort of a head-nod-bow, and left. He was surprised to find someone waiting at the bottom of the stairs though.

He vaguely recognised the flyaway hair and heavy glasses from Hogwarts. Not a girl in his year or house, but slightly infamous for seeing omens. Sirius remembered fondly once stalking her with Padfoot for a day.

Trelawney seemed different though. Less distracted and more... concrete. Her gaze which had been focused on a torch to his left, pinned him before her eyes rolled up. Her voice was low and gravely, nothing like he remembered.

"_Death's Champion defies Fate, Fate's Champion defies Death ... The One has been torn in twain; one with the power, one with the knowledge ... Five years' peace before they return, and two set out to rejoin their Master ... The Dark Lord will rise again, greater and more terrible than ever before ... Death's Champion will prepare the battlefield, but Fate's Champion decide the victor._"

Trelawney trailed off, then shook herself. Her eyes both gained and lost focus, as did her bearing assume its usual airiness.

"Oh, hello. My apologies, I was just finishing a walk to clear my head. Hope I haven't delayed you from your urgent meeting. And stay away from canines if you know what's good for you."

With that she swept away, leaving Sirius very confused. He stared after her, before muttering something Remus would admonish him for and meandering his own way down to the front door.

Maybe he should look into Dumbledore's Seer idea?

* * *

Between being a single father and a full time student, Evan's life had been busy, so it had been months before he'd had this opportunity to take up Amy's offer on talking to her grandfather. He wasn't quite sure why he was going, especially since the trip involved a five hour drive into the Queensland outback.

Finally he arrived at the homestead, Lakespring, evidently named after the only visible body of water for miles around. Evan parked the rental at the end of the line of utes, picked up a sleeping Al and trod up to the front door.

"Come in, come in!" the lady who opened the door bustled, Evan followed, awkward about a woman looking physically like Umbridge but acting like Molly Weasley.

The house was similarly disconcerting, a feel like The Burrow, achieved somehow through decorations the Blacks or Gaunts would've chosen. Snake-skins were everywhere, and the leather on the couches had been patched with it as well.

"So this is the mysterious Evan Harrison," came a deep smooth voice from the greying man lounging in front of the TV. In one hand a beer, the other a coiling snake. "Kyle Koorang. Welcome to Lakespring. Now do you have anything to add that didn't make it into our letters?" A pause. "No? You freed a snake, you killed a snake, you were bitten by a snake, honestly if it really was a basilisk you're halfway towards completing a ritual for becoming a parselmouth. Certainly shouldn't have lost it. I can't think of anything, except that you should talk to_ Warriwillah_."

Evan could tell that the last bit, the name, was in parseltongue but not the meaning. The little snake in Kyle's hands slithered to the ground, hissed once before heading to the door.

"What are you waiting for? Follow your guide! Take the kid."

Evan nodded a did, quickly catching up with the little snake. The walk down to the lake took much longer than necessary because Daya (it took several repeats to understand her name) refused to be carried, muttering about patience and lack thereof.

They arrived at a gap in the reeds surrounding the lake, where there was a wide flat stone, perfect for sunning. At Daya's hissed command, Evan sat on the shore next to it.

He was rewarded by a sight that completely explained Amy's confusion that anyone could hate snakes. Warriwillah, there was no doubt it was the rainbow serpent, slid from the lake, scales shimmering. At least ten feet coiled on the stone, an unknown length still in the water, as he raised his head to look at Evan in the eye. His tongue flicking in and out lightly brushing his face.

Then struck, twice, quicker than even Evan's seeker reflexes could catch. Once to the throat and then his ear.

"_Welcome and my apologies. Do not fear._"

Evan didn't respond. He hadn't quite caught up to the fact that a snake only second in venom to the basilisk had bitten him. He didn't seem to be melting into pure spring water though, so maybe he was okay.

"_My bite lacked venom, it was merely a temporary fix so that we could speak._" Evan got the feeling that the serpent was smirking. "_Besides, I'm pretty sure you'd survive a proper bite._"

"_How long will it last?_"

"_Until the end of our conversation. Now tell me of your dealings with my brethren. And this curse._"

Evan once again relayed his experiences, and when he stopped Warriwillah seemed very thoughtful.

"_I can taste the lies on your breath, you know. Maybe you __would__ melt._"

"_What?_"

"_There is basilisk venom in your magic but not your blood. Almost like you've shed your skin. Something I was not aware of wizards being capable of. Or at least not without leaving them obviously my prey." _There was a pause, as if he wanted an explanation but didn't expect one. "_Your snake-tongue is addled. The only advice I can give is to practise talking with snakes. Like any language. I don't know if you'll be able to command snakes ever again. That is a gift that can't be given twice. That said, I can tell you are a fellow protector. I give you my blessing and apologies that I cannot help more._"

* * *

Nearly four years had passed since the Harrisons had moved into Number Thirty One, and it was hardly recognisable at all. The sun crept into the kitchen, over a mess only two unsupervised males could make, eventually winding its way around the building into the smaller bedroom.

This bedroom showed the greatest change, as what once had been a nursery was now a young boy's room. Stuffed animals relegated to the top of a bookshelf, now stocked with more and more non-picture books. Photographs abounded chronicling the boy in the bed's growth. The sun continued its journey, working its way up the bed to strike the black haired boy in the eyes.

With a small grumble Alan shifted, and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. Green eyes roved slightly cross eyed as he tried to remember the dream. He had it often, and it was really nice, with two people in it. One large and red, his mum Al liked to think; the other about his size, his brother James he guessed.

The dream slipping away like water in his hands, Al gave up and rolled out of bed. Today was important. Oh right, August 17th, his birthday. He was five! Any reluctance to wake up fled, as Al rushed to Dad's room and jumped on him.

"Morning!"

Evan merely grumbled before rolling over, grabbing Al around the waist and pinning him to his side. "More sleep."

Al wiggled, "No fair! I'm the birthday boy! If I say 'I want pancakes' you say 'how many?'" Getting no reply, Al stilled waiting for his father to wake. Slowly.

A four hour long twenty minutes later found Al sitting at the kitchen table waiting for his pancakes. As usual Evan was a brilliant chef. Neither could explain why Al could eat fourteen pancakes but not a single pea.

"So, looking forward to your party?"

Al nodded vigorously since he knew better than to talk with his mouth full, though the maple syrup on his nose did make a mess. He and some of his kindergarten friends were going to Luna Park. And he'd managed to get Dad to invite Amy along.

Al liked Amy a lot, and he was sure that Dad did too. Amy was fun and he was sure that she'd be a great mum. She already was more or less his Aunt. Her family was pretty cool too. The Rainbow Taipan Warriwillah had become some kind of weird uncle to both of them anyway, and Kilkurun a cross between pet and younger brother. But Evan was hopeless. Al wasn't sure whether Dad was blind or stupid, or if it really mattered. And he knew better than to ask directly ever again.

Even now, while he recovered from fairy floss overload on the floor, they were chatting on the couch. All day they'd been together like any other couple at the park. But Amy never stayed over, never got a hug from Dad, and rarely saw him without Al around. Al groaned when Amy dropped Kilkurun onto his belly.

"Good night, Birthday Boy." She kissed her fingers and touched his forehead. At Kil's hissing, she added, "_And __good night to you too, little one._"

"Night Amy."

"Have a good day?" Dad asked after he'd collapsed on the couch.

"Yeah," Al drawled, then rolled over to look at Evan, ignoring the little taipan's hiss of distress, "I'm going to miss them."

"I know, we'll keep in touch."

"Why do we have to go?"

"You need to go to Hogwarts."

"That's not for _years_."

"We've been over this, I need to sort some things out before you get there."

"What's wrong with Macquarie?"

"Nothing, but you're down in the book for Hogwarts."

Al knew that Dad had to have more reasons than that. He frequently said that tradition wasn't really reason for anything. There were too many times that what Dad or his grandparents told him didn't make sense. Or why Dad dyed his hair red, since Al could tell that Evan looked even more like his father than Al did. And that was saying something. One of Evan's more annoying nicknames for Al was 'Mini-Me' and then he did this thing with his pinky. But Evan was secretive, and Al was sure he'd either be told or work out The Secret eventually.

* * *

There was snoring coming from an auror's cubicle. Office policy allowed for a lot of free reign in maintenance and decoration of each person's little box. This one was a mess; the in and out boxes were bleeding into each other and there wasn't any clear space on the desk or most of the floor. On the left wall were three maps: one of England, one of Europe and one of the world. Each was covered in green and yellow pins. One the right a dartboard with a selection of Pettigrew, Dumbledore and Unknown mugshots to aim at. Pinned, centred above the desk were two photos. One of a black haired baby, the other of a rat faced traitor.

The two pictured were integral to Sirius' career or lack thereof in the Auror Corps. He hadn't advanced since Halloween '81. Partly because the Pettigrew Incident had severely tarnished his record but mostly because Sirius was obsessed. If it weren't for the wealth of information available by being an auror, most were sure Sirius would've resigned to focus on finding his godson.

This was somewhat true but lesser known was the fact that Sirius' last meeting with Trelawney had left quite an impression. Not immediately, but after a few months he started to admit that he might have to wait five years. Not something he was really capable of. He still searched but soothed himself of a sense of failure by counting the months down. Thirty seven down, twenty three to go. Sirius wasn't so happy with Dumbledore's response when he finally shared the prophecy, which was to do nothing, presumably for the five years.

"He's been sighted!" Eric MacDougal shouted as he stuck his head into Sirius' cubicle. Sirius didn't need to clarify who _he_ was, it was the rat.

"Where?" Sirius yelled as they ran to the Auror apparation point.

"Tinworth, northern end of Main St, bloody reckless."

"See you there." Both nodded, turned on their heels and disappeared with a crack.

They reappeared in an alley off Main St, Tinworth. Even from the alley, Sirius could see that this was going to be an ungodly sting. Main St was chockers with shoppers, with Christmas only a few weeks away. Sirius and MacDougal were going to have a lot of difficulty apprehending Pettigrew without breaking the Statute of Secrecy.

"Glamours. Hopefully the crowds will hide us at much as him. Also start casting an anti-apparation jinx, slowly though, don't tip him off."

MacDougal nodded, and started following Sirius' lead. Shortly the two robbed aurors were replaced with completely different men in muggle clothing.

Sirius lead the way, shifting through the crowd, only occasionally needing to shove someone out of his way. The sheer volume of the crowds made finding Pettigrew difficult but after ten minutes Sirius spotted him.

"Eric, ten o'clock, next to the family of blonds."

"I see him," MacDougal replied between repeated mutterings of the jinx.

They started making their way towards him, but unfortunately a little girl who ran into Sirius and started crying caught people's attention. Including Pettigrew, who did a double-take before starting to push his way through the crowd to them.

As the game was up, Sirius began to push his way through the crowd as well. More gently that Pettigrew. The mob mentality quickly grasped the chase and thinned in a line between the two.

Pettigrew threw a look over his shoulder and seeing that Sirius was gaining, gave a frightened yelp before disappearing. Shrieking announced that the shoppers were now well aware of the rat running between their legs.

Sirius swore under his breath, an animagus transformation was just the kind of thing he'd want to avoid. With a sigh, he sent off a messenger spell to summon the Obliviator Squad and continued to chase Peter, now tracking the ripple in the crowd.

Eventually the rat left the high street for an alley, presumably to apparate to wherever he was currently hiding. MacDougal's jinx was forestalling that though. The auror duo reached the alley, only to have to lean against the edges as Pettigrew sent jinxes out at them.

"Okay, we've got him cornered, if he hasn't fled that alley yet, there can't be a rat hole for him," Sirius said, "I'll go in and subdue him, you make sure he does escape and keep the muggles away."

Eric opened his mouth, probably to question what exactly Sirius meant by subdue. But seemed to think better of it and nodded. He started to wave his wand in the direction of the street. The crowd stopped gawking at the strange men with sticks and a shimmer appeared between them and the alley.

Sirius dived into the alley, opening with a Ricochet Curse. Almost immediately having to roll away from a _reducto_ that destroyed the box he was crouched behind.

Those who remembered Pettigrew from Hogwarts might have been surprised by the ferocity of his duelling. But he was always judged in the overwhelming presence of the other Marauders and their enemy Slytherins. The life-or-Kiss nature of the battle only made him more treacherous.

"I've always wondered," Sirius called in a lull in the fighting, "Why exactly you turned."

"Fear," was Pettigrew's response, a curious mix of fear, sneer and defiance, "The Dark Lord was growing stronger and stronger. He promised sanctuary, even for you and James. I did it for you!"

"NO YOU DIDN'T! YOU SOLD THEM OUT! DON'T YOU DARE SAY YOU DID IT FOR ANYONE BUT YOURSELF!"

There was a curious sound, knocking Sirius out of his rage, which he realised was squeaky laughter. "Of course. You wouldn't understand self preservation would you? Like today, trapping yourself in an alley when last time I blew up a street."

"You won't get away, even if you do."

"But you're wrong. Today I bought a portkey, it's going to leave at five."

Sirius looked down at his watch. Four fifty five. MacDougal couldn't put up anti-portkey wards as well as the anti-apparation jinx. Where was back up? Nothing for it, he'd have to get rid of the portkey.

"_Accio_ portkey!"

There was a rustle, then nothing, "Not that easy _Padfoot_. _Bombasta_." But Sirius had dived at the first syllable, recalling the blasting curse from their last duel. As he rolled he fired a stunner. The duel resumed.

Four minutes to go. Duck under the Ice and Fire Curse, return with another stunner. Transfigure some debris into a tiger.

Three minutes to go. Why had he turned? We're they bad friends? Shield against the bludgeoning curse.

Two minutes to go. Don't think about that. More Ricochet Curses.

One minute to go and he'd get away. Thirty seconds... twenty... ten... nine - almost got him with a body bind - three... two... one...

BOOM FLASH.

Sirius groaned from where he lay next the crater of Pettigrew's final explosive hex. He'd gotten away. Again.

* * *

**A/N: **Here is a clarification of when each scene happens:

Nov/Dec '81: Evan shopping and applying for his Mastery

Dec '81: Skeeter's article

June '82: Visit to Lakespring

Aug '85: Al's birthday

Dec '84: Pettigrew's escape.

Yes I know that the last two should strictly speaking be switched, but I wanted to pay homage to PS more.


	4. The Apprentice of Death

**A/N:** There's a poll on my profile for how much screen time Nagini should get, and whether she should be a horcrux.

**Chapter 4: The Apprentice Of Death**

"ZOOM!" Al shouted as he chased his toy broomstick through the air. Did Dad really think he could get away with putting a leash spell on him? Honestly, he would've been much better behaved if Dad hadn't decided to treat him like such a kid. If he was going to be treated like a brat, then he was going to be a brat. Al grinned, he could see that he was getting under Dad's skin. Evan had that dangerously controlled vibe going on; his breath too even, his expression too polite.

The security office on the other hand was completely unfazed. "Twelve inches, snake skin core, been in use four years. Correct?"

"Yes, thank you," Dad replied, then with a note of exasperation, "Come on Al."

Al didn't have much choice since the leash charm dragged him anyway. After only few steps Dad seemed to to realise the very real danger of Al being crushed, so he hoisted Al onto his hip.

With a higher vantage point, Al took to observing the people around him. Particularly those who got a reaction out of Dad. Like the snobby pale blond man that had sauntered past while they'd been waiting line. Nobody would've understood the slight narrowing of Dad's eyes to mean much. But Al was well versed in reading his father's face both open and controlled. Especially since they'd started his meditation lessons. So he realised that look was a new peak on Dad's glare-o-metre.

And now he was smiling fondly at the balding red head who'd gotten in the elevator with them. The man must have noticed Al staring, because he turned and - with a glance at Dad - began to introduce himself.

"Hello there, my name's Arthur. What's yours?"

"Al," he knew never to talk to strangers but Dad was here and he seemed okay with it. It _was_ annoying that everyone was treating him like a toddler.

"And how old are you?" Very annoying.

"Six." Not three.

"Same as my son Ron." Do you talk to him like this?

"Maybe we can arrange a visit," Dad interjected when the lift called out level six. "We're after level five, so maybe we could owl you?"

"Oh right, Arthur Weasley. The Burrow. Are you from abroad?" Al guessed his accent had been noticed. Not that he had one, everyone else did. Honestly it was kind of weird hearing everyone talking like Dad.

"Just for the last few years, reporting back in and all that. Evan Harrison, Wimbledon. Got to get the floo connected though, hoping for The Falconry."

"Well good luck."

Al waved over Dad's shoulder as he walked out into the crowd. He turned his head from side to side to peer into the offices lining the hall. It all seemed so boring. Al swore to avoid getting a desk job.

Eventually Dad entered an office called "Migration Control Office" or to Al the most boring two hours of his life. First there was the waiting room, with only copies of Witch Weekly twice as old as he was to read. Every time he tried to talk with Dad, the reception witch shushed them. Then there were the forms. Sure he was asked a couple of questions but nothing interesting. Al wasn't even sure why he was here. The closest he got to interested anything was in Dad's answers, any piece of information could solve the mystery of The Secret. Sadly there was nothing new in the answers.

Since he didn't seem to be getting anywhere on The Secret, Al returned to his second mission. Getting his Dad a girlfriend. He'd been almost there with Amy and then Dad had decided it was time to return to England. Al was running out of time, Dad was almost thirty!

The journey out of the ministry was much the same as the one in. Though this time a very precisely dressed man, who rather than eliciting fondness or disgust, caused Dad to look like he'd just remembered something. Followed closely by the smile Grandpa tended to get when he reminisced about pranks. People should wear name tags so that he could identify them, Al thought.

* * *

A falcon hung in the air above the village of Little Hangleton. If anyone had been able to get close to the falcon - which would require them to fly, an impossibility - they would have been able to see that it was very much an unusual bird. For starters no ornithologist has ever recorded a Peregrine falcon with emerald green eyes before. Nor was the species known for having a messy crown of black feathers. Also its indifference to the prey scurrying in the fields around the town in preference for a single shack was down right unnatural.

The muggle explanation would be an escaped result of either careful breeding or mutagenic animal testing. Neither of these would be correct, though the first was partially. No, the truth was much simpler, the bird was an animagus, currently going by the name Evan Harrison.

Evan was examining a small shack hidden in between some hedgerows a short distance out of the village. He saw much more than the already incredible sight offered by his raptor eyes as he had cast a magic revealing charm before taking off. The enchantments were thin around the boundaries of the Gaunt land increasing in brightness closer to the shack. The shack glowed like an earthbound moon except for the deep dark shade at its heart that Evan deduced was the Horcrux.

The falcon dived, seemingly after scurrying prey but rather than returning to the sky with food, a man unfurled from the ground. Evan shook himself, ever since the time jump it had been yet another example of how he would never be normal. Somehow he'd managed to retain his father's stag as well as his own falcon. Defying the accepted laws of magic yet again.

He shrugged and waved his arms, reminding himself how they worked. Grabbing his kit he started walking the boundaries of the Gaunt land, careful not to cross the wards he'd seen. At each corner he place a small green warding stone until he circled back to the first one. He touched it with his wand and began to murmur.

The Fidelius Charm was tricky, especially when it was used to hide buildings. The Secret had to actually be a secret, so Buckingham Palace couldn't be Fidelius'd for example. And the power required to make people unaware of a whole building was huge anyway. This was why it had been so easy to protect his and Alan's identities. Very few truly knew Harry Potter and everyone _knew_ that James Potter was dead. Similarly preventing people connecting the dots was easier than making them invisible. However the Gaunt Shack being already half forgotten, hidden behind hedgerows and not all that large was easy to Fidelius.

"...dissimulo in meus animus ut The Resurrection Stone is hidden in the Gaunt Shack outside Little Hangleton."

A shivering wind blew past Evan as golden lines joined the warding stones together. Rather than folding up between its neighbours like Grimmauld Place, the shack hid by sealing its hedges such that no one would know there was a space inside.

The moment Evan stepped across the first ward he started having doubts. This Horcrux had killed Dumbledore, wasn't it just a bit arrogant to assume he'd fair any better? It wasn't like he had Snape here to contain the curse for him. The cave needed two people to succeed, what if this was the same? Maybe he should come back with some help. Now that the Shack was under a Fidelius, even Riddle wouldn't be able to find it if he didn't tell. But who would he get? He couldn't share his identity with a living person until he was the Master of Death, and to regain that he'd need the ring. What had Hermione called it? A catch-22?

He tried to ignore these doubts as he worked his way to the shack. Undoing the various magical triggers and traps. None of them were very tricky but Evan didn't remember there being any at all really in the cave. Maybe warding was an area Riddle wasn't proficient in? Would explain why he entrusted two pieces of his soul to others' protection.

Evan's discomfort grew as he got closer to the shack. He'd crossed half the wards and hadn't noticed anything at all like Riddle's normal gruesomeness. Which made him even more concerned. Maybe they were charmed to punish him when he left?

He was ten feet from the snake decorated door when the screaming started. It was faint but he'd recognise that scream and the accompanying heart clenching coldness anywhere. Dementors. Evan spun, ignoring his screams for Sirius, only refraining from summoning Prongs due to a weird gut feeling. There was no dementor in sight, maybe Riddle had contained it inside? With a piece of his soul, that was ridiculous. Could dementors Kiss Horcruxes?

Thoughts that had been desperately trying to connect did. There were no dementors. The wards _had_ been effecting him. Heightening his fears and doubts in hope that he'd eventually turn back. With hard gained self-control Evan cleared his mind and fell into the half trance which was his occlumency. Clear headed, he examined the instinct telling him not to cast a patronus. The set up reminded him of the cave. Where relief from the potion came at the price of a hundred inferi attacking from the lake.

So no patronus then. Decision made, Evan continued his forced march, ignoring his mother's screams, his own and when they blurred into that horrible second Halloween at Godric's Hollow. He ignored the images obscuring his vision, trying to convince him he was somewhere else, resolutely taking one step after another.

And suddenly Ginny's slack body stopped falling back from his avada kedavra and was replaced by the door with a snake on it.

"_What bussinessss do you have with the Housse of __Gaunt?_" the empty skin hissed.

Great, parseltongue. Years of living with Al had left him able to understand, but Al and Kil were more than happy to inform him he hissed gibberish only they could make sense of. So if he judged the intent of the guardian he had to persuade it to grant him entry, probably without lying, with his limited ability to communicate. Wonderful.

"_I wissh to sssee the housse of the family I gained my sssnake sspeech from._"

The dessicated snake gave him a scathing look. Quite a feat without eyes. Evan wondered how much of what he'd said had been understandable.

"_I doubt you resseived sssuch a poor grasssp of the noble tongue from a Gaunt_." Evidently a better grasp than Al's teasing would suggest.

"_Alasss I wasss curssed and losst much of my ability_."

"_Who cursssed you?_" The last Gaunt? How to answer?

"_A man who would kill any Gaunt if he ssstood to gain __from it._"

The tongue flicked in and out, "_I taste no liesss, enter._"

The door swung inward revealing the interior of the shack had changed little since his visit in the pensieve. It was derelict and dirty, a monument only to how far the noble house of Gaunt had fallen. Maybe it was Riddle's private joke about his own hypocrisy

And then it attacked.

Knives flew from the kitchen, abandoned snake skins converged on him, the dirt floor liquefied trying to trap him, the furniture came to life and charged like guard dogs happy to tear him apart.

It was chaos. It was Evan's natural habitat.

Ignoring the hissing from the door, laughing at how easily he'd been duped, he reacted. Blasting attacking objects, shielding himself from others, dancing past even more. Cutting curse met snake, conjured flames met attack furniture, bludgeoning hex met airborne kitchenware.

Silence fell on the smoky debris that was all that remained of the foiled attack. The shack was empty. Everything bar the walls and roof had been reduced to ash. With a careless wave of his wand Evan vanished that too leaving a perfectly clear level floor.

"Good thing I didn't bring Al. Ginny would've killed me."

All that was left was unearthing the ring. Evan pulled a trowel from his kit and started digging at the centre of the hut. This was the most dangerous stage, it had signed Dumbledore's death sentence. After a few minutes careful digging, he uncovered it, stored in an ebony box.

It reminded Evan of the boxes that the Black and Potter rings were kept in when they weren't being worn. The family crest was a rearing snake, its tail curled around the symbol of the hallows. The rest of the box was covered in snakes, so realistic they seemed to writhe against each other. And maybe it was just an optical illusion but Evan's eyes picked out deeper grooves outlining a looming cloaked figure, three others and a bridge.

Evan picked up a knife to pry it open with but it sprung open before he even touched it. Maybe the ring inside recognised him as its owner? Evan reached out to put it on. Three turns and he'd be able to talk to Ginny for the first time in years. He froze. He didn't remember taking off his gloves. Reapplying his occlumency, Evan put his gloves back on and pointed his wand at the ring.

He began unravelling the curses and enchantments on the ring. Luckily the necrosis curse wasn't part of the horcrux itself, not tied to the contained soul. It was somewhat like removing Dumbledore's enchantments from Al's body, except the magic was much more malicious and slippery.

Evan lost track of time but he eventually reduced the ring from deadly to touch to just being a horcrux. Just a horcrux, ha. Though it was safe to touch it certainly wasn't safe to wear. Holding it in a gloved hand - just in case - he turned it over three times in his palm.

"I can't believe my apprentice is such an idiot. However did you become the Master of Death?"

"Hello Death." Evan thought it rather unfair that the personification of death took large helpings of Snape's sarcasm and Dumbledore's manipulative omniscience then wrapped it all in Tonks' chirpiness so that he couldn't even get decently annoyed with her.

"Good evening Apprentice." Death waved.

"So how am I an idiot this time? It's been a while since anyone told me so I can't pinpoint it exactly." Oh and she brought out his sarcasm too.

"Right now your impatience in using the Stone while it's still a horcrux. Seriously who knows what could have happened when you use a artefact that brings souls back from across the veil while contaminated with a soul piece?"

"I don't suppose you could just reap that bit of soul?"

"Nup. Sorry. If I could horcruxes wouldn't work, would they?"

"So I'm an impatient idiot," Evan shrugged, "has anything changed since our last chat at King's Cross?"

"Everything, nothing," Death replied mysteriously, "Not really. You're still an idiot."

"Haven't we covered this?"

"No. Two more things, your loose lips and your choice of aliases. You are so very lucky that Gringotts has dozens of identifying charms on the doors, so the goblins already knew who you were before you told them. And that a house elf _always_ knows their master. _And_ that paintings don't have souls. Otherwise you'd be dead."

"And what's wrong with my assumed identities?"

"You chose the wrong ones. Really you should have avoided the Potter contingencies all together but even so, you chose the worst one. Didn't seem too good to be true to you? Fate wanted you to choose that one. You're not a Child of Fate any more, you're a Child of Death. I am your master and you should make sure you don't fail me.

"Did you forget that Fate's plan is for Al to die? You weren't meant to come back from King's Cross. You have _no_ idea how many legal technicalities I had to arrange for that. And I'm not going to be able to do it for Al unless he becomes the Master of Death. So you'd have to die instead, either way Fate gets a martyr."

Death continued to glare before giving an exaggerated huff, "Doesn't matter anyway. Not even Hermione could explain it to you I suspect. Your orders remain the same. Don't use the Stone to call any souls until you've cleansed it," she paused, pinning him with a look, "especially ones that were possessed. I grant you permission to fill in Al on what's going on. We'll talk once you reunite the Hallows. Any questions?"

"Uh," but before Evan could ask anything, Death disappeared with the muted raw of an Avada Kedarva.

Evan glanced once at the shack before leaving and heading for the edge of the wards. He had one more task in Little Hangleton before returning home. At the edge of the wards he turned on his heel and disapparated. The red light speeding towards him didn't even register.

Reappearing in the shadows of the Riddle house, Evan made his way to the graveyard. Ignoring the foreboding feeling rising from his last visit, he contemplated his next actions. Destroying Tom Riddle Senior's bones wasn't on his list of orders from Death. He was only doing it to make it more difficult for Voldemort to come back.

But with what Death said about arranging things for him to survive. Dumbledore had said that Riddle's use of his blood had been the link that kept him alive after the horcrux was removed. Did Death not giving orders for him to do it count as something of an order not to?

Evan looked at the gravestone. Maybe he was safer with the devil he knew. Even if Death couldn't set things up for Al's survival, didn't mean Evan couldn't try. Having to die to bequeath Al the title of Master of Death seemed a bit much. He knew that the Elder Wand only needed its bearer to be disarmed for it to change allegiance.

He ran a finger across the words Tom Riddle. Yes, he'd leave the bones. He could always come back.

That's when the first hex flew over his shoulder.

* * *

Sirius Black was gorging himself in the Auror cafeteria when a memo struck him in the back of the head. Grumbling about overbearing bosses he unfolded it. Then to the amazement of all the room bolted from his chair, food forgotten.

_Date: Wednesday, 12th of February 1986_

_To: Black, Sirius_

_From: Hopkirk, Malfalda_

_We have received intelligence that Unknown performed the Fidelius Charm at thirty seven minutes past twelve this afternoon outside the town of Little Hangleton. At the coordinates of..._

The Trace was rarely used for anything other than keeping track of under-age magic use. But it could be used in a limited function to track other magic use. Unfortunately it had to be rather specific, and was also somewhat illegal, so Dumbledore had only been able to organise it to report a repeat of the spells found where Harry disappeared.

Just as he reached the DMLE apparation point, he finished his reply and sent the memo flying back to Shacklebolt, and MacDougal who _was_ his partner. Sure Bones was head of the Auror office but Shacklebolt was better informed about That Bastard. With a growl that scared some junior secretaries, Sirius spun and disapparated.

He reappeared a whiles away from the coordinates and a few charms later a silent, invisible Sirius was jogging to where the Trace had picked him up. He got there just in time to see a man walk through a hedge and disappear.

Well now he just had to wait for That Bastard to come back out. Sure he couldn't enter whatever he just warded but it would be easy enough to set up surveillance. Sirius idly wondered where MacDougal was. In this case they couldn't bring out a full response since they had no proof of anything, but a little company would've been nice.

The tap on his shoulder almost got Eric hexed.

"That where he's hidden?"

"Yep."

Sirius almost missed That Bastard's reappearance, and as it was didn't react in time to curse the creep. Instead the man disappeared with a crack and Sirius' stunner smouldered in a hedge.

The crack echoed and only infuriated Sirius more.

"Uh, why did that echo seem to come from that direction?"

Sirius looked at Eric, then in the direction he was pointing. The echo had been oddly directed, maybe That Bastard hadn't gone far. Sirius pointed at the decrepit mansion on the hill, "Apparate behind that."

He appeared in the shadow of a decrepit mansion, though the gardens showed someone was fighting a loosing battle. Sirius shifted to Padfoot and quickly found That Bastard's scent. It led to a graveyard. How appropriate for a Death Eater. Eric went another way to flank That Bastard.

When the Death Eater's attention focused on the gravestone of one Tom Riddle, Padfoot ducked behind another gravestone to changed back. The sicko had a grim little smile as he traced the name. Who was it? First kill? Family? Sirius didn't much care, he cast the strongest anti-apparation jinx he could and fired an amputation hex at That Bastard.

It missed and Sirius lost his element of surprise. The man spun, obviously attempting to apparate, but didn't seem surprised when he couldn't. He used the spin instead to infuriatingly dodge Sirius' next three stunners before sending two back himself.

"Why did you try to hex me?" That Bastard had the gall to ask.

"You kidnapped my godson you sonuva-" Sirius' reply was cut off by a disarming spell. "Bastard!"

Sirius' wand flipped through the air and That Bastard lazily caught it.

"Disappointing. I'll have you know my parents were married three years when I was born, thank you very much. My grandparents longer."

"Still kidnapped my godson."

"Haven't kidnapped anyone. Unless you call not letting my son follow his mother into the great beyond kidnapping." That Bastard glanced at his watch. "I really should get go-" Two red lights flew true, except that at what seemed like the last moment That Bastard ducked. Thankfully reinforcements had appeared. Sirius didn't quite catch it but he muttered something like, "goddamn constant vigilance."

Sirius was forced to admit that it was a rather impressive duel, if a bit one sided. That Bastard matched the three aurors spell for spell, occasionally firing from Sirius' wand in his off hand. Though he seemed to be restraining himself, Sirius had never seen a Death Eater duel for so long without an Unforgivable. In fact the low level hexes were almost insulting, the worst he'd cast was a stunner or body bind.

Through out all of this Sirius felt extremely useless without a wand. And took to throwing stones at That Bastard whenever he had a chance. Certainly seemed to be having better luck than Shacklebolt's partner.

It couldn't last though. That Bastard fired a stunner from each wand and Shacklebolt only managed to block one. Then whirled and another stunner shattered Eric's hastily erected shield. He lazily weaved through the last man standing's hexes before stunning him to face.

The anti-apparation jinx was still up, so he wouldn't be getting away that easily. Sirius doubted That Bastard would be able to outrun him, especially after a duel like that, let alone Padfoot.

He was wrong. With a cheery wave, That Bastard dropped Sirius' wand on Shacklebolt, transformed into a stag and galloped off.

Sirius was not looking forward to writing up this report. At least he had the beginnings of a description. Brown hair, dark eyes, tall, male. Padfoot confirmed it was the same impossibly James-like scent. Stag animagus, probably illegal. That Bastard was back in the country.

* * *

Al looked up when he heard the door close. He dropped the book he'd been reading and ran to meet Dad. His day had been really tiring, Al was beginning to regret choosing to finish the year in Australia, since it meant he started here half way through. He'd made some friends but couldn't help wondering if he would've made better ones if he'd been there at the start of the year.

Al froze mid-step when he saw Dad - he looked terrible. He was covered in dust, turning his red hair a dull brown. There were small rips in his clothes and even some scratches on his face. Worst of all that protective feeling that Al was so accustomed to had worn away. The only time Al had seen Dad like this was after his defence mastery exam. Like then, looking at Dad, Al couldn't help but feel bone weary.

"Master Evan has returned!" Lacey called, and before either male could do anything she was leading a feebly protesting Evan to the bathroom.

"Fine, fine," Evan grumbled, "Al, I have something to tell you when Lacey lets me back out."

Al returned to his chair by the window but his book couldn't hold his attention any more. He was both concerned by whatever Dad had been up to that would leave him in such a state, and eager because it sounded like Dad was going to answer some of his questions. Maybe he would even get to know what The Secret was.

"Are you okay?" was Al's first question when Evan strolled out of the ensuite and collapsed in the plump armchair.

"Yeah, yeah. I had to do something, ran into some surprises. I'm tired but I'll be fine after a little sleep."

Al knew that tone, Dad wasn't going to tell him what had happened. Nevertheless, he gave his dad a look, one he'd learnt from Grandma Lily. "Then you'd better go to bed early."

"Promise, but we need to have a talk."

"The Talk?" Al asked with an overly innocent smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"Wha-" Evan spluttered, "No. You don't want that and that's years away." Dad's attempt at serious fathering was undermined by Grandpa James falling of his chair laughing. With a glare at Grandpa, Dad twirled his wand a couple of time and there was a strange buzzing heaviness in the air.

"I need to explain why we left England and why we came back. And if you're anything like myself, I'm sure you're suspicious of a lot of things."

"A little," Al agreed, "You said that we left because Death Eaters killed Mum and James." Al had never been sure which of those two he missed more.

"There's a little bit more to it but I need to talk to about _why_ our family was attacked. And it wasn't Death Eaters but Voldemort himself. You see, your grandparents and I haven't been totally honest with you. Our last name isn't Harrison."

A thousand thoughts and observations ran through Al's head. Dad's hair dye. The fact that Dad and Grandpa looked _exactly_ the same, even more than he looked like Dad, like twins. Grandpa and Grandma. The way Dad knew people who didn't know him. How Al always heard far more about Grandpa's time at Hogwarts than Dad's.

"What is it?" Al eventually cried, grasping the air, "I feel like I have all the pieces but I'm _not_ getting it."

"That's because you do and you won't," Dad replied, before whispering in Al's ear, "I'm going to tell you a secret. _The soul of Harry James Potter lives in the body of James Adrian Potter and the soul of Albus Severus Potter lives in the body of Harry James Potter_."

Harry Potter? That kid from that stupid book series? A suddenly the chaos in Al's head crystallised. Harry's parents, James and Lily, Grandpa and Grandma.

"I'm Harry Potter? How? And what about the scar?" He couldn't be Harry Potter, he didn't have any scars that he didn't remember getting.

"Only as much as you want to be, I'm just as much Harry Potter as you are. Only people who know the secret can see your scar." Al turned to look at the mirror behind the desk and sure enough, there was now a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, he rubbed it idly as Dad continued, "As for how, time travel. But the more important question is why. I didn't lie about how your mum and brother died, just forgot to mention that it happened in 2007. Or that you did too."

"I died?" Al said quietly. Of all the things Al thought Dad was going to tell him, him dying wasn't one of them. And when did he end up in Dad's arms?

"Sort of. Anyway, things happened and eventually I was offered the chance to go back and change things. I took it, since you'd get a second chance too. Now the main reason we left the country was that as part of the deal for coming back I couldn't tell a living soul. I'm telling you now since I got permission to tell you."

"How come I never figured it out?"

"When you were a baby I cast a charm on both of us to hide who we truly are. It's called the Fidelius Charm, and I'm sure Grandma would be more than happy to tell you how it works."

"Okay, that's why we left. Why did we come back? I guess I'd want to come back for Hogwarts but you said I couldn't start until I was eleven."

"Yeah, but I came back to change things. So I have to be here to change them, if I waited until you were at Hogwarts there wouldn't be much point to some of them."

"So what are you going to change?"

"I've got to find and destroy a few very bad things. I collected the first one today, and it put up a bit of fight. But you don't need to worry about that. Just relax, we also came back so you'd have some friends here before Hogwarts. For now just work on your meditation."

"But Daaaaaad," Al whined. He knew the conversation was over but he really hated meditation practise. It was boring and pointless and boring. His squirmed and wriggled out of Dad's grasp. He really didn't need a tickle attack.


	5. Distant Allies

**Chapter 5: Distant Allies**

Al was very relieved that Dad was treating him less like a toddler, especially since they were going somewhere actually fun today - Diagon Alley. Evan seemed bemused that he was so excited ("It's really just like Centre Alley") but this was the Alley Dad and Grandma first saw the magical world. It did crop up a few times in their stories, like the time Dad stayed there for two weeks. Al was getting to hear Dad's stories all over again as he filled in the bits he'd taken out. Before now they'd been very Swiss cheese like.

He seemed very amused that Al was forcing himself to keep quiet lest he blurt something out to attract the muggles' attention. So much so that he'd taken to trying to get Al to slip up by pestering him with questions.

"So, where do you want to go first?"

The Quidditch store! "Um, Flourish and Blotts?"

"Really? I would've thought you'd want to go look at a games store. But whatever floats your boat. What's got your attention then?"

I have no idea. "Not sure, maybe some stories about Harry Potter?" Why did I say that?

"You got upset when I gave you one for your birthday."

"I know. They're stupid but I bet I'll look like an idiot if I haven't read them."

Fortunately before Dad could ask any more questions, they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Ignoring the muggle looks that slid across it, they went inside. It was just as Dad described it; from shadowy corners with cloaked figures to the welcoming roaring fire.

"How about a drink before we start?"

"Okay," Al shrugged. Room service didn't offer butterbeer.

"Morning! Two butterbeers thanks."

Al took his drink and turned his back to the bar so he could drink in his surroundings as well. Al knew he didn't warrant more than a second glance, except that in some way he was Harry Potter. If the people in the pub knew that, he'd be mobbed as Dad had been his first time. In fact, the only eyes still on him were a staring pair of grey eyes, and an occasionally glancing pair of brown. Al reached over and tugged gently on Evan's sleeve, interrupting his chat with the barman.

"Dad, there's two men staring at us."

Dad threw a brief glance over his shoulder before turning to Al. In that moment Al saw several unreadable expressions crash into each other, before Evan's face blanked leaving only a shadow of nervousness.

"It's okay, they're..." Dad trailed off and Al guessed that it was something to do with Harry Potter. It didn't matter anyway as before he could continue the two men in question had gotten up and approached.

Closer now, Al could tell they were giving him quizzical looks and the dark haired one was glaring at Dad whenever he thought he could get away with it.

"Hello stranger!" the glaring man said with rather obvious false cheerfulness.

"Good morning," Dad replied, nonchalantly taking a sip of his butterbeer.

"Mr Black, Mr Lupin. May I introduce Mr Harrison and his son." The bartender said, probably in an attempt to avoid a tense silence.

"Thank you Tom," Dad said before looking at the two men, "But please call me Evan. Mr Harrison makes me feel like I'm back in school."

The lighter haired one gave a brief chuckle, "I know what you mean. I'm Remus and this is Sirius." He tapped his chin in thought, "You wouldn't happen to be the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion, would you?"

"My potions mastery project, yes. If you know someone afflicted, I'd be happy to brew it for them. For a price of course. I'm still working on the taste, sugar renders it ineffective."

Sirius had crouched in front of Al and was examining him intently. Paying particular attention to his eyes and forehead. If he hadn't been unable to feel or see his scar until Dad told him The Secret, Al might be more worried. Right now, engaged in a staring contest, he merely felt annoyed. Which may have lead to him speaking before he thought.

"Didn't your mother teach you it's rude to stare?"

Sirius visibly flinched at 'mother' but replied, "I doubt I was listening."

"Al, behave. Just because he's rude doesn't mean you get to be," Dad lightly admonished.

"Now was there anything you needed us for? Because we have an appointment with some goblins we should be getting to."

"No don't let us keep you," Remus said politely, before more or less dragging Sirius away.

"Thank you Tom, we'll probably see you for lunch."

Al followed Dad into the dingy courtyard behind the pub. Before the portal was opened, Al couldn't help asking, "He was your godfather wasn't he?"

"He was," Evan agreed, with an odd weight on 'was' which Al couldn't quite place. He'd need to think about it. More cheerfully, Dad asked, "ready?" Then tapped the wall at Al's nod.

Though not surprised, Al was no less awed by Diagon Alley. It wasn't "just like Centre Alley", it seemed more magical than that. Not just because more of the witches and wizards wore robes but there was something in the air. It certainly was busier. Ignoring the teasing he'd receive later Al demanded a piggyback ride.

Gringotts was splendid in marble and gold. No sooner had they reached a teller than they were herded into the office of a goblin called Alrok.

"Mr Harrison. What can Gringotts do for you today?" was the extent of the pleasantries.

"Good morning, and no need for false names. Al knows who we are. First piece of business is withdrawing the Potter heir ring. I take it that the same laws on notifying the Ministry apply."

"Unfortunately, yes."

"No matter. He can don it at home. Onto the second order of business. Has there been any progress on the side requests I made last time we met?"

"Yes, Dumbledore has been a nuisance, but stopped trying to withdraw money from the Potter vaults once it became public knowledge that he didn't know Harry Potter's whereabouts." Alrok grinned evilly over his interlaced fingers,"Well he tried once to convince me it was a ruse he'd employed." The goblin's smile conveyed the rest of the story - it was very uncomfortable.

Alrok placed a small wrapped object on the desk. "As for the other request. This is a three century old dagger, work of the goblin Sortouf. And here is the purchase agreement I've negotiated.

Dad read it closely, "expensive, but definitely cheaper and easier than acquiring one myself. Well then, I find this contract agreeable." Dad signed, wincing slightly at the cuts in the back of his hand, "Was a blood quill really necessary?"

Alrok grinned, "not entirely."

"Of course. Now, would you be able to acquire some basilisk venom for me?"

"A simple request. How much?"

"Half a cup."

"I'll contact our commodities department."

"Thank you. Now for my last request for today, I'll need to talk with the manager of the Lestrange Estate. If he's unavailable I'm willing to come back at a later date."

Al wasn't as experienced in reading goblin expressions as Dad's but he would guess that Alrok was intrigued.

"I doubt he is busy," Alrok answered, grinning like there was a joke Al didn't get, before ringing a bell and sending an errand goblin to fetch someone called Norgarth.

"What's this all about?" grumbled a short, even surlier looking goblin. Al couldn't help noticing he looked more worn and less well groomed than Alrok.

"Mr Harrison requested your presence to discuss some business."

"Well what is it?"

"I wish to inquire about the possible means of acquiring a certain item from the vault of your client Bellatrix Lestrange."

"You dare discuss theft with a Gringotts goblin?" Norgarth spat. Alrok didn't seem much calmer.

"I wish to avoid theft," Evan replied, but Al could tell he was anxious, "Hence why I wished to talk with you."

"Bank policy is that transfer of vault property is only allowed if authorised by the vault holder in person."

"Though if unable to report in person, Gringotts has self certifying transfer agreement contracts."

Norgarth looked extremely affronted that a fellow goblin would betray his client for their own.

"Difficult to get her to sign something while she's in Azkaban. Could her Head of House authorise the transfer?"

"I believe he resides three cells away from Madam Bellatrix," Alrok added thoughtfully.

"What about Arcturus Black?"

"He has no authority over the Lestrange Vaults." Norgarth sneered, "For that to happen, all the Lestranges, Carrows and Rosiers and possibly Goyles would have to perish. In the right order."

"Well then, if the only way is one of these transfer agreements, could I have one written up for the transfer of Hufflepuff's Cup from Bellatrix Lestrange's vault to one of mine?"

Alrok pulled a piece of official looking parchment from his desk and scribbled something, signed it and passed it to Norgarth. The second goblin read it and signed as well.

"Good luck, you'll need two witnesses," Norgarth sneered before striding out of the office.

"Any other business?" Alrok asked cheerfully, or as close to it as a goblin ever was.

"No, I don't believe so."

With no further pleasantries, Dad took Al's hand and allowed them to be lead to the carts. The ride was just as stomach churning as Al had been told, and he couldn't wait for a proper broom. Evan let him explore the Potter Vault for a little while, but vetoed taking home a broadsword.

"Where now?" Al asked eagerly, once they and their newly refilled moneybags made it to the surface.

"Just robes and books for today. I'll come back later for to browse the apothecary."

"If I have to get robes, you have to take me to look at pets."

"Alright, but you know we can't buy any."

"Kil wouldn't forgive us anyway."

"Too true, though we might need to get an owl anyway. Now first your end of the bargain." Dad replied, pushing Al into Madam Malkins. There was a stool free and Al was placed on it.

"What were you after?" a second witch asked as she came out from the back room.

"Just two sets of dress robes and three everyday robes for the two of us. Let him choose the colours, just nothing too garish," Evan answered before going off to chat with the couple standing near the door.

While the witch scurried off to find samples, Al turned to the blond boy standing on the next stool.

"Ugh, I hate robes. They're so old fashioned."

The other boy gave him a curious look, "what else is there?"

"Muggle clothes," Al replied, gesturing at his own, "Pants! Shirts! Ability to see my knees!" The rest of his rant was curtailed when the seamstress shoved a set of dark green robes over his head.

"They're not that bad," the boy continued half-heartedly, "Oh, Gran would churn me out for my manners. I'm Neville Longbottom."

"Right, Alan Harrison. I'd shake your hand but I'm afraid to move."

"Me too," Neville joked, "So where are you from?"

"Born round here somewhere, but my dad and I moved to Australia when I was one."

"Oh, because of the war?"

"Yeah." An uncomfortable silence fell. Back to basics, "who's your quidditch team?"

"The Tornadoes," Neville blushed before admitting, "I'm not much of a flyer."

"My old team was the Manly Manticores, but they're in Oz. Here, I don't have much choice. Both my dad and grandpa support Puddlemere. Though Dad likes the Cannons for some reason."

"But they're terrible!"

"I _know_."

"Okay, dear all done," Madam Malkin said summoning the pins from Neville and handing him some robes. The blond boy took them and hopped down.

"Nice meeting you. Better get going, Mum's promised to buy me something from Blooming Bell's."

"You too, see you around."

Neville's spot was replaced by Dad, who Madam Malkin began to pin and measure while Al's assistant got started on his next robe.

"Made a friend?"

"Possibly, have you heard of the Longbottoms?"

"Yeah, nice family, make loyal friends. Frank and Alice were top aurors, though Alice tells me she's retired now."

The rest of their fitting passed in silence. Being in on The Secret was weird, all these veiled conversations. Al gathered from Evan's answer that he and Neville had been friends. Al couldn't imagine what it would be like to effectively come home from overseas and find yourself twenty years in the past. Now he'd be expected to be friends with all of his friend's parents. And Al would be going to Hogwarts with his aunts and uncles.

At Flourish and Blotts Al and Dad split after failing to find any new quidditch books. Al wandered grabbing and reshelving a few on potions, one of the few subjects he could study, enjoyed and excelled at. None grabbed his interest that he didn't recognise from the collection at home. He was in the history section when Dad returned and with an over dramatic sigh of concern that Al was wasting his childhood, shoved Al into the children's fiction section. Al didn't miss Evan's smirk as he walked away.

Al knew he was being pranked but opted not to resist. When it came to pranking involving Marauders and Sons, resistance was futile. And payback inevitable. So in a nook between the stairs, on the border with the gardening section, Al found what Dad had pushed him towards.

The Harry Potter books. There was almost a wall covered by them. At least Dad had only bought two dozen of them. He trailed a finger along the spines, noting the impressive number of mythical artefacts, people and monsters Harry Potter had dealt with considering he was only six. And missing, somewhat presumed dead.

"You love the books too?"

Al turned to see a red headed girl crouched in the corner reading a book with Harry Potter flying from a dragon on it. How she'd managed to hide in the dusty bookstore with such vivid red hair was a mystery. Where had he seen hair like that before?

"My Dad buys them for me," to laugh at himself.

"Well they're really good. Harry Potter is a brilliant wizard!"

"He's six."

"He took on a dragon!" the girl replied holding up her book.

"That's not real you know."

The fangirl huffed and retreated to her corner, grumbling, "you're just as bad as my brothers."

It was fortunate that she didn't want to talk any more since Al had realised where he recognised that red from. From his half forgotten dreams. Okay, this little girl was, would be, his mum. She was younger than him and a rabid fan of Harry Potter. Whose body his soul was in. Not weird at all.

"Hey! Ginny! Mum's ready to go!" A red headed boy called unnecessarily loudly, then softer but just as bluntly, "Oh, who are you?"

Ginny stuck her nose in the air, "A man with no taste in literature."

"Ignore her, I'm Al. Dad pushed me back here. I think he only buys me these books so he can laugh at them."

"Well Ginny here thinks Harry Potter's going to come back and marry her."

Other way round. "He might," Al conceded. If he wasn't him.

"If you were-" "-taken by a dragon." A pair of twins started as they stuck their heads round the corner, "He might slay-" "-it for you." "And you two could-" "-fly off into the sunset." "And have lots-" "-of little hero babies." "I'm sure if Charlie-" "-starts taming dragons-" "-he'd be happy-" "-to lend us one."

"Stop that!" Ginny yelled, stomping her foot.

"There you are," said an exasperated woman who must be their mother, "Fred, George stop tormenting your sister. Ginny you can have that one book. Ron put that back, we don't need any more joke books, you can borrow the twins'. Oh hello there dear."

Al was slightly thrown by the mother's shift from lightly scolding to overly welcoming. "Uh, hi." Grandma.

Further awkwardness was avoided by Dad's reappearance, trailing yet another red headed boy. "This one yours? I'll trade him for the black haired runt."

"Percy?" "Or the runt?"

"I'm not a runt!"

"Tough choice," the twins finished in unison ignoring Al.

"Well too bad, you can't have him," Dad said, and Percy and Al found themselves switched. Al wasn't quite sure how Dad had reached past the twins and Ron to manage it though.

"Well if that's all, I've finished so we should be getting home," the mother said, then turning to Dad, "Sorry if we've bothered you, sir."

"Evan, please. And I'm not bothered, are you bothered Al?" Ignoring Al's meaningful glance, "No we're not bothered. But we probably should be going too. See you around." Once they were a couple of aisles away, Dad asked, "Didn't find any books you like?"

"None we don't already have," Al replied, "You knew she was there, didn't you?"

Dad shrugged unashamedly, "I wasn't surprised to find her there. It was always a lot of fun to tease her about it. Now, where next? Animals or Quidditch?"

Al mulled it over, "Quidditch then pets. They really should combine them. Play riding dragons!"

Dad chuckled, "Trust me, when you ride a dragon you don't have very much control. Maybe something like polo with winged horses?"

"Nah, too girly. So can I get a broom?"

"You've already got one."

"But it's _old_."

"Three years. Besides, there's no point getting you a good broom until you're old enough for proper games. Your Comet will be fine until you get to Hogwarts."

* * *

"What's with you?" hissed Remus when they returned to their table.

"I don't like him," Sirius huffed, then grabbed the Daily Prophet, trying to avoid Remus' lecture by reading the latest scandal: Crouch had landed himself in St Mungo's after insulting some Veela.

"Sirius," Remus continued in that patronising tone he used whenever he tried to explain why replacing Minnie's wardrobe with cat suits was a bad idea, "You can't just crouch and stare at every black haired boy you see in the eye. Sooner or later some parent is going to sic the MLE on you."

"I just know that I'll see Harry some day and be able to give That Bastard a swift kick in the balls."

"I hate to break it to you, but that was just a father and son. Let's go over the facts, Al didn't have a scar. That bastard had brown hair where Evan has red. I didn't sense any glamours - and you'd need a pretty heavy glamour to hide a curse scar like Harry's - did you?"

"No," Sirius mumbled, "some thing's still fishy though. I'm going after him. He said he had an appointment at Gringotts, didn't he?" With that Sirius stood and headed for the portal.

Remus groaned but followed anyway. It's not like he wanted to catch up or anything. They could do that skulking around in shadows anyway.

Sirius was looking across the alley through the window of Gambol and Japes, pretending to examine a portable hole. Gringotts had been a bust, the goblins had forcibly escorted them out once it became clear they weren't there for business. At least their own. So far they'd trailed Evan from Gringotts to Madam Malkins to Flourish and Blotts. None of the people he'd spoken with had raised any flags. In fact they were all very well known Light supporters.

"Satisfied your curiosity yet?" Remus asked, tossing a slinky ball from one hand to the other.

"Shut up. They're on the move. Looks like Al is dragging Evan to Double-Q-S." Even in his certainty that the little boy was Harry, Sirius couldn't bring himself to actually _say_ it. He'd made that mistake once before and it turned out that it was just a five year old muggleborn doing accidental magic. That had been really awkward.

"So the dad doesn't race to the quidditch store. Definitely evil," Remus drawled sarcastically.

"He's being pleasant to Malfoy," Sirius pointed out.

Remus looked over Sirius' shoulder, "I'd say polite. Just because he doesn't pull faces at Malfoy, doesn't make him evil either."

Sirius looked at Al's reflection in the shop window. "The kid definitely doesn't like Mini-foy."

"Who would?"

"Oh look, I think Mini-foy is getting annoyed with being ignored. I doubt Lucy will like you shoving others. Poison's more traditional."

"I doubt Mini-foy actually wants to hurt Al, just get his attention."

"Didn't work. Oh wait, it did. Accidental magic afros count don't they?" Then more to himself, "Why did we never think of that?"

"They're not talking to the Malfoys any more. Happy?"

"They're going round a corner," was all the reply Remus got as Sirius dropped the portable hole and went looking for a new spying spot.

He'd got a metaphorical scent, Padfoot might not be a bloodhound but he was certainly persistent. Sirius was going to investigate Evan Harrison until he had proof he was That Bastard, then he was going to throw That Bastard in Azkaban and take his godson home.

* * *

After the Malfoy Mishap (or the Dray-fro, Evan hadn't decided), Evan had walked Al over to the ice cream parlour in hopes that it would help him calm down.

"What did he say that got you so angry?" Evan asked as Al idly pushed his remaining sundae around.

"He shoved me and said something about not knowing my place. Then he said that I must be a mudblood to not know who he was and not wear robes. And that I was nothing and would be nothing."

"Well he's wrong."

"I know but I'm not you. I haven't out flown a dragon or anything special," Al mumbled, letting his head fall into his arms and almost his ice cream.

"Hey," Evan said softly, lifting Al's face to look at him, "You know those books are fantasy, right? No one expects a kid to do any of that. When I got to Hogwarts I'd known I was a wizard for only a month, even then I managed. I'm making sure you're better prepared, so it'll be easier for you. I'm fixing things, remember?"

"Yeah," Al took another mouthful, "now I feel stupid."

"Don't ever think that, you're definitely smarter that I was your age."

"Not hard," Al snorted, then with a mouth full of ice cream asked, "What does mudblood mean anyway? It doesn't sound very nice."

"It's not. It's a very rude way of describing someone who's not a pureblood. Dirty, muddy blood, like having any muggle ancestors makes you less of a wizard or witch. People don't tend to agree on how much 'dirty blood' you need though," Evan smirked, "Most who'd use it would agree that a muggle parent was enough, so the 'dreaded Lord Voldemort' would be one."

"Really?"

"Yeah, little known fact, his dad was a muggle." Evan finished off his milkshake and lent back. "Enough of that though, why don't we go get an owl?"

"What was your old owl like?"

"My first owl was my first birthday present, on my eleventh birthday. She was a beautiful snowy owl. I named her was Hedwig. She was with me until the start of my seventh year." Evan grinned fondly at most of the memories, and ignored the last. "Ricagambeda was my second owl I guess. Don't give me that look, your mum named her. Beda was a good owl but never quite as good as Hedwig."

Al seemed to have recovered from his meeting with Draco. Evan was mildly surprised at how young Draco was mindlessly spouting such bigoted drivel. Though on second thought what did he expect - Lucius certainly hadn't taught Draco tact.

Al was loudly disappointed that Diagon Alley had separate stores for owls and other animals, unlike The Bestiary which had always been his favourite shop. Nevertheless, he scurried awake into the dark recesses of Eeylops. Evan merely strolled after him, past the tawnies and browns. He knew Hedwig wouldn't be there but couldn't help checking the snowy owls anyway.

So he was greatly surprised to find her sitting in a cage waiting for him. Just staring while the other owls slept. They stared at each other before tilting their heads in sync.

"He's quite a beauty isn't he?"

"He?" Evan asked, ignoring Al's quiet snigger at his jump. On closer inspection he realised that the owl was very similar to the one he'd spent so many hours just watching but the feather patterns were different.

"Oh, yes. Very proud this one, been returned twice I'll admit. But he seems to have taken a shine to you."

"He reminds me of my first owl."

"Will you take him?" The faintly desperate note in the shopkeeper's voice knocked Evan out of his recollections.

"Yeah, I think we will. That is, unless Al's found his own owl."

Turned out Al hadn't, saying that he much preferred Kil's company and didn't understand why anyone would want a pet they couldn't talk to. So they left Eeylops with the handsome snowy in a cage, and a bag of food and treats. Immediately, Evan took the as-yet-unnamed owl out and told it to find them at home. Frankly, if he couldn't do that the owl wasn't a very good post owl. The owl gave a snobby hoot and took off, already in the right direction.

Decreeing that Al would have to come back another day to plumb the depths of the Magical Menagerie, Evan lead the way to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. He'd covered everything on his mental shopping list. At least everything he could do today with a small child in tow. He'd have to return to visit Knock Turn Alley, as much as he might like to think so, he'd didn't know everything, .

Evan was acutely aware that Sirius had been trailing them all morning. And had dragged Remus into it judging by the werewolf's bored expression. He hoped that Sirius hadn't connected him with their duel in Little Hangleton, though he hadn't been arrested so he doubted it.

As the train pulled out of Charring Cross Station, Evan leaned against the window. He wondered if Sirius could see him. Evan was surprised that Sirius hadn't followed them onto the train, but wasn't when he blinked and Sirius was gone.


	6. The Journey from the Witch's Hump

**Chapter 6: The Journey from The Witch's Hump**

The last two months had been rather tedious. Evan had started his new teaching job and unfortunately was starting to feel more and more like Snape each time the bratty teenagers thought they could get away with ignoring him, skipping class, or setting things on fire. That had lasted a few weeks before he gave in and tried channelling his more commanding professors - McGonagall, Lupin and sadly, mostly Snape. After a few false starts, more than a few threats and one notable case of whispering 'boo' in a girl's ear each time she ignored him for a week, the classes fell into line. Evan hadn't quite realised how well behaved the DA had been, and wondered how much had been a side-effect of his fame.

Alan was doing well enough at his new school. He'd finally made some friends, but was still a bit of an outsider. Something that the young wizard's inherent, unplaceable oddness didn't help with. Having a pet snake had scored points. Whenever muggles came over Gizmo (he refused to carry mail for a week after Al suggested naming him Snowzer) was sent to roost in a bird box in the backyard. All the magic stuff was kept in an expanded cupboard under the stairs. Evan was still negotiating for a magical builder to install a basement.

But today Evan had more important things to do. He dressed in something of a stereotypical burglar suit since that was more or less what he was up to this evening. Though was it stealing when it was merely in safe keeping for you? Didn't matter, tonight was the night, his greatest obstacle - Dumbledore - was away in Athens on ICW business and Evan could out-sneak any prefect. Even better Al was staying at a friend's place. As he headed out Evan remembered what Hagrid said about Hogwarts being the only place safer to keep something than Gringotts. As the only successful thief of Gringotts, Evan decided to put that to the test. Grinning - somewhat madly - Evan turned on his heel.

The lane from Hogsmeade to the Shrieking Shack was quiet and empty as Evan scurried towards the town. First thing after apparating he'd covered himself with as many disillusion, distraction and silencing charms as he felt necessary.

The sleeping town of Hogsmeade was dark, only a few lights here and there to guide his feet. It was not surprising that Honeydukes was closed and locked. He did wonder how often the owners upstairs were woken up by students sneaking in or out. A couple of quick charms and the door opened for him.

Evan slipped through the shop, its basement and into the secret tunnel. It seemed much smaller returning as an adult. Nevertheless he pushed on, reaching the base of the ramp underneath the statue. A wand tap and a whispered "_assendium_" both turned the ramp into a set of stairs and created a crack of light where the hump would open.

When he reached the top Evan gently lifted the hump, looking both ways in case there was anyone there. There wasn't. Still silently, he began to worm his way out of the hump. Only to discover that he had grown too much since third year and got stuck with just one shoulder out. With a huff, Evan shifted into his falcon form before somewhat ungracefully fluttering out into the deserted corridor.

Rechecking his disguise charms, Evan headed off for his first target, two floors below. Hopefully Filch wasn't in his office, Evan felt severely in the dark sneaking around Hogwarts without his trusty map.

Descending the last staircase and rounding the avoided corridor where Filch's office hid, Evan was dismayed to see light seeping out under the door. He needed to get Filch out of his office, but how? If only he had the twins here to provide a distraction. Or some Decoy Detonators. Or even some Dungbombs. Evan considered returning to Hogsmeade a pilfering some from Zonko's but decided against it. Simpler was probably better.

Evan quickly walked to the nearest shortcut and soon found himself in the fifth floor west wing. He retreated as far as he could and still see one of the suits of armour. Evan couldn't remember when or why he learnt this jinx, it was pretty useless. Spells moved at different speeds but generally quite fast. Not this one, it travelled at a slow walk, and merely shoved whatever it eventually hit. Probably from James or Sirius, mysterious shoving of people would be their kind of thing.

He took careful aim at the suit of armour and whispered "_tardpulsum_". All that showed of the jinx was a slight ripple in the air. After a couple of seconds to ensure it was on course, Evan retreated back to Filch's office. Just as he exited the last shortcut he heard the deafening crash of a suit of armour falling over.

Immediately the door to the office slammed open.

"Peeves!" yowled Filch before he marched off in the direction of the echoing armour. Mrs Norris followed eventually, but not without sniffing the air in Evan's direction. Her lamp like eyes drifted over him three times, never quite pinpointing his invisible form before slinking off after her master.

The door to the office was still open, so Evan stepped into an office he'd been in once before. He was after something much more important than unexpected blackmail. Evan quickly found Filch's precious filing cabinets of confiscated objects - specifically the four drawers marked 'confiscated and highly dangerous'. Unsurprisingly it was locked. This time Evan opted for muggle lock picks since a squib wouldn't be able to open them if they needed magic. But he doubted Filch was above getting Snape to booby trap them against magic.

The lock on the cabinet was very basic and shortly done with. Judging by the labels on the front, Filch helpfully filed his trophies by date. Evan opened the '74-'79 drawer - only briefly noting it was three times deeper and five time longer than it rightfully should be. Keeping an ear out for Filch's return, he rummaged through the drawer and quickly found the parchment. The map looked much less interesting than the rest of the contents. A quirk Evan was sure caught the twins' attention. Why would Filch confiscate a blank piece of parchment after all?

First target in hand, Evan closed the drawer. He was unable to relock it with his picks and decided that the risk of it being noticed before he left was less than the he was willing to pay the price of possible Snape conceived pain.

Now he had a quandary, he couldn't disillusion the Map because then he wouldn't be able to use it, but people were sure to notice a floating piece of parchment. So Evan did what anyone fearing being caught with something they want to keep without it being discovered, he shoved it under his jumper. Fortunately, it appeared the Disillusionment Charm still worked, though Evan thought his midriff looked more visible.

Just as he was mentally congratulating himself, Mrs Norris came through the still open door. Evan froze, as her eyes again passed over him. He couldn't just wait for her to go away, and Filch would return any moment. Quickly as he dared, Evan snuck past the cat and slipped back into the corridor. He didn't pause though, since he could see the light of Filch's lantern coming round the corner. Instead heading the other way into the dungeons.

Three corridors and a tapestry later, hidden in a secret passageway, Evan felt secluded enough to withdraw the Map from under his jumper and unfold it. Whispering the password, he smiled as ink blossomed and the walls and halls of Hogwarts appeared. A well practised eye slid over the Map, noting where all the patrolling professors and prefects were. None on the seventh floor or approaching it at the moment. One last check for the office's location and that Dumbledore was still not in attendance, and Evan headed for the Headmaster's office.

He wasn't sure where his next target was exactly, it had been given to him last time, but he felt it was either in the Headmaster's office or his chambers. If Dumbledore had a house it might be there but Evan doubted it. Planning this night he'd considered going to the Room of Requirement first but decided that the Cloak was a greater priority. Both because he needed it more and because the Diadem wasn't going anywhere.

The journey to the gargoyle took a lot longer since Evan paused frequently to check that no one was approaching. But eventually he was reached the gargoyle. Standing there, it occurred to Evan that with the Headmaster away it might not open at all. Not having visited that frequently, bar his sixth year, he wouldn't know. Maybe he should have asked James. Evan shrugged, wouldn't know unless he tried.

Twenty three failed guesses later, he was starting to fear that it was deadlocked. But McGonagall would need access as Deputy wouldn't she? Unless she had her own password. But hers were much more diverse. Trying the few he could remember he lost his patience and reverted to guessing sweets.

"Ice Mice. Pepper Imps. Sho-" Evan stopped midword as he realised the gargoyle had actually moved. With one last check of the Map, the interloper started up the stairs.

* * *

At the same time the stone gargoyle jumped four feet to the right, almost eighteen hundred miles away a silver bearded man jumped out of bed. Albus wasn't sure what had woken him. All in all, he'd been having a terrible night's sleep, he'd only just gotten back to sleep after being woken up two hours ago when he was awoken by what seemed like repeated pokes to his rather ticklish ribs. And finally what felt like a mild electric shock. With a sigh he threw his azure and lime dressing gown over his purple pyjamas, and reclined in the armchair of his hotel room.

He wondered what it was. A repeatedly failed assassination attempt? He certainly didn't fell any malevolent magic in the room or at work. A little passive legilimency found no awake minds within reach. Not much magic worked long distance, especially without a token of some sort. Long distance. That was key. What was he far from? Many things. England, home, Hogwarts.

Albus jumped to his feat again at the self induced shock that someone was breaking into his office!

"Fawkes!"

His phoenix was the only way of getting there in a reasonable amount of time. Even he, Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock, couldn't just whip up an international portkey. And the trip to England took a good fifteen minutes anyway.

Where was his familiar? The bird didn't just _not_ _come_. He might be contrary and like to hide his slippers but he didn't just ignore him. At least not unless he could do it in person. In avian.

Albus wasn't aware of any way of preventing a phoenix from going where it willed, but that didn't change the fact that whoever had broken into his office obviously had managed it.

A sharp twirl and flick of his wand clothed Dumbledore as he hurried for the hotel's apparation point. He needed the next portkey to England. Five minutes ago.

* * *

Evan had been lucky that the resident he'd forgotten about remembered him. He'd barely taken three steps into the office before the fiery bird squawked and flitted over to perch on his supposedly invisible shoulder. Fawkes leant forward and engaged Evan in a staring contest, piercing him even more keenly than Albus' eyes ever had.

A minute passed before Fawkes let out a soft trill and rubbed Evan. He flapped back to his perch and tilted his head as if in question.

"Nice to see you again, Fawkes," Evan said, receiving the same trill and look. This was their first actual meeting, but Evan couldn't shake the feeling that Fawkes knew exactly who he was, Fidelius or no Fidelius. "Ah, do you mind _not_ fetching Albus? I'm not ready to talk to him yet."

The phoenix bobbed his head.

"Brilliant, thanks," Evan said, stroking the bird once more. "Now if I was Albus and I wanted to hide something I thought was a clue to my deepest desire, where would I put it? Oh well, simple first._ Accio_!"

Nothing stirred. Except a couple of portraits which appeared to be having more and more difficulty pretending to be asleep. Now that he remembered their presence, Evan was surprised they hadn't said anything about his. On closer inspection... _Damn, someone's done a runner. Constant Vigilance!_ Evan quickly cast a middling binding spell on the portraits, keeping them in frame and a couple of the strongest locking charms he knew on the door.

Ten minutes of fruitless searching, including Albus' chambers (Evan wasn't quite sure he wanted to know how the Marauders learned to get there), Evan admitted he wasn't going to find it. Time to enlist some help. Especially since it sounded like Snape was cursing the door.

"Fawkes, could you show me where Albus hid what he's keeping safe for me?"

The phoenix looked at him and shook his head. Evan wasn't sure that meant he didn't know or felt he'd betrayed his familiar enough for the evening.

"Worth a shot," Evan said to himself, before removing his charms and looking up at the former Headmasters and Headmistresses, "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I'm sure you're all curious as to why I've come here tonight so you might as well stop faking."

Immediately, there was a cacophony of exaggerated yawning as the portraits pretended to wake up.

"So then?" asked a grave Scotsman that Evan didn't recognise.

"Well, I know how you like to gossip, so I'm going to share with a select group who can then pass it on to you."

At the mention of 'gossip' many of the suspicious faces turned positively hungry.

"What's the test? I hold the record for most points given," gushed one rotund witch.

"The test is, do you know what I'm looking for?"

There was some mumbling before the unfortunately familiar voice of Phineas Black drawled, "And how do you expect us to guess?"

"Aren't you going give us any clues?" a reedy voice called.

"It's a family secret, passed down father to son."

Evan heard a faint intake of breath behind him but resisted the urge to turn around. If the portrait wanted to speak he would.

"An heirloom?" "Why would Albus have someone's heirloom?" "What kind of secret?" The portraits asked again before Phineas cut across them, "Well, boy, what's your last name?"

"I'll tell you," Evan said, thankful that portraits didn't count as living souls, "but I warn you, you won't be able to tell anyone who doesn't already know. If Albus found out who I am, I'm pretty sure I'd drop dead. Vows are tricky things."

"Come on!"

"Potter. My last name is Potter."

The response was more or less as expected, many different forms of disbelief, from laughter to anger. Evan only caught a repeat of the intake of breath because he was listening for it. This time he turned around.

There, quite high and to the left of Dumbledore's desk, stood a man leaning forward, as if he could reach out and get a better look. The same hair, most of the face. Eyes that oddly reminded Evan of Dumbledore. Evan raised his wand and waved it twice, first binding the portraits and secondly deafening them.

"They won't hear us."

"You're not James."

"Part of me is. I'm his son, I'm Harry."

"I may have hung here for almost four centuries but I know it hasn't been long enough for Harry to grow up. You look like James, but he's dead."

"My mother died and still saved my life and saw me grow up. I had to follow her example when my son was in danger. I was offered the chance to come back, in time that is. And to do what I need to do I need the Cloak."

"You say you're a Potter, you even look the part, but I need proof."

Evan raised his right hand, where the Potter Ring became visible, "I am Lord Potter and I wear the ring." A soft golden light flowed from the ring and over him, settling over his heart. It dimmed and reformed into a crest of arms - depicting an overflowing jug, borne by a stag and a griffin.

Headmaster Potter looked down at his own robes where his matching crest had shone in response.

"I, Sir Charlus Percival Potter, recognise the new Lord Potter." The glows faded. "It's in his desk, third draw on the right, fake bottom I think. Albus tries it out every now and again, you know."

Evan followed his great-something-grandfather's instruction and the cloak was there. Hidden under a fake bottom. He didn't put it on, but pocketed it instead.

"Now I feel stupid."

"Does a young man good to be reminded of the fact. I'm going to be visiting my other portraits from now on and I expect a proper explanation of all this."

"Fair enough," Evan replied. There was an airy chime.

"I take it you don't want to meet Albus?"

"No, I'd rather not."

"Well that chime went off because the Headmaster as returned to the country. And it won't take him long to return to the castle."

"You're right. Thank you for all your help," Evan gave a little bow, then turned to the door. "One last thing, I don't suppose there's a secret exit I could use? Don't really want to duel anyone tonight."

Charlus seemed to ponder it, then gave a smirk. "Well since it's Professor Snape, I suppose I can understand your hesitance. He is a unsavoury fellow, isn't he? In the Headmaster's Chambers, go to the wardrobe and _push_ the doors open and you'll find a passage to the fifth floor."

"Thanks again, Grandpa!"

Evan heard a faintly amused "Of course Lord Potter" as the door closed behind him. Halfway down he paused and reapplied his disguise charms. Sure he had the Cloak now but Dumbledore had admitted to being able to see through it. Hopefully the layers of disguise would hide him. As long as the layers of magic didn't attract his attention. Evan mentally swore. Didn't matter, he knew less magic wouldn't work.

He paused briefly behind the gargoyle. He had gotten the Cloak, and that was the more important thing. Did he have time to get the Diadem? Charlus was right, it wouldn't take Albus very long to arrive. In fact, Evan glanced at the Map, he was striding up the driveway right now. But getting in again would be much more difficult.

There was a reason that the Sorting Hat placed Evan in Gryffindor rather than ignoring his pleas. Truth was Evan wasn't nearly as Slytherin as he sometimes feared he was, but he could have been. However, fundamentally he wasn't. As demonstrated by the fact that rather than finding a window and flying to the passage under the whomping willow; Evan threw himself under the Cloak, stuffed the Map under his shirt and sprinted for the Room of Requirement.

As soon as he saw the painting of the troll ballerinas, Evan started chanting "I need the Room of Hidden Things" repeatedly, as he ran back and forth. No sooner had the door appeared than he slipped through it.

The Room was filled with aisles of discarded and forgotten junk, stretching off into the distance. Sadly the room had never quite worked the same after Goyle's misadventure with Fiendfyre. Though Neville, the Room's expert, reported it had been healing.

Evan immediately began searching for the Vanishing Cabinet, which he remembered being very near where the Diadem rested. It quickly became apparent his panic was effecting his memory, since he could see any sign of the Cabinet. Perching himself on a long lost barrel of elven wine, Evan racked his brain on where it had been. He'd seen when he hid his potion book in the cabinet, and then used it to mark where.

He jumped back up, he'd gotten the cabinets confused. Spotting a dusty broom resting nearby, Evan grabbed it to speed up his search. He was looking for blistered cupboard and five legged skeleton. After a few minutes flying back and forth, Evan saw it and the Diadem on the bust next to it. He didn't even bother to dismount, grabbing it as he flew by. He headed for the exit as if Fiendfyre was chasing him again.

Dismounting at the door, Evan tucked the Diadem in his pocket and checked the map again. There were a lot more dots scouring the castle than when he arrived. Evan guessed that first thing Dumbledore did after arriving was organise a search of the castle. He'd be safe waiting them out here, no one could enter the Room unless they knew what it was being used for. But he'd be stuck here all night, Evan remembered that it'd been three in the morning when the professors finished the search for Sirius. Considering that it was probably about that time now, they wouldn't be finished before daylight. And Evan would probably have to wait until curfew tomorrow to make a secret getaway. Which he could do, except at some point Al would wonder where he was.

Evan traced his finger over the Map, particularly the secret passages to Hogsmeade. The Willow wasn't an option, Filch knew of the ones in the dungeons and first and second floors, and the one of the fourth floor had caved in. Wait, not yet it hadn't. He traced a finger from the blank seventh floor corridor, down to the mirror on fourth floor. Definitely closer than the one-eyed witch.

Next destination chosen, and with one last check of the Map, Evan headed back into the castle. The first corridor was empty, but Evan passed Professor Flitwick on the sixth floor as he ducked between shortcuts. The secret staircase took him down to the fifth floor where it hid behind a tapestry. He was above to push it aside when he saw the Map out of the corner of his eye. Two dots were very close and if not for the line between them, Evan would've thought they were talking. Professor McGonagall was on the other side of the tapestry. Wondering why she was just standing there, Evan cautiously pressed his ear against the back of the tapestry in hope of hearing something.

"Nick, check the passages on the left, I'll check the right."

With that little warning, Evan brought his wand up in time to surprise the professor when she pulled back the tapestry. No time to even gasp a warning, all she saw was a half invisible form, a wand pointed at her chest and a red light.

Her stunned body fell backwards, entangling in the tapestry and pulling it from the wall. The red flash and ripping fabric caught Nearly-Headless Nick's attention to turn to look.

"Minerva!" he cried, before looking both ways along the corridor, "Show yourself thief! Or are you such a coward you can't?"

Evan stepped carefully over and around McGonagall's stunned form, breathing "I'm sorry." He didn't bother to respond to Nick's taunting. He needed to keep moving, he already heard the paintings fleeing to summon someone. With his luck it would be Dumbledore.

He hadn't made it halfway to the end of the corridor when that passing thought turned true. Who else but Albus Dumbledore would appear out of a passageway no more than thirty yards ahead of him. Evan saw Dumbledore's slight frown as he surveyed the sight of a half wrapped, fallen McGonagall. More importantly, his eyes didn't quite slide of Evan's invisible form. The charms seemed to be holding, for now. Slowly, Evan began to edge past Dumbledore.

"What happened here?" the headmaster asked as he walked cautiously towards his deputy's still form.

"We'd just decided to share checking the passages off this corridor. I didn't see it, but Minerva pulled back the tapestry and was immediately stunned."

"I see," Albus replied, crouching beside MacGongall, "_Ennervate_."

"Albus! The intruder!"

"Yes, what did you see?"

"When I opened the staircase, his wand was pointing right at my heart. He was hard to see, only half there. Uh, my head."

"Lie back, Poppy will be here soon." Dumbledore stood, and raised his wand and swished it. "Hard to see?"

Evan was just sneaking around the corner when he felt the swooping, shadowing sensation of the revealing charm he remembered from the Rookery. He had no doubt that Dumbledore knew where he was, and instantly started sprinting for the mirror. He barrelled down another secret stair, and it was only a hundred yard dash to the mirror.

After seeing him duel in the past, Evan really should have realised how fast Dumbledore was on his feet. He maintained his lead, but didn't manage to extend it. He was soon charging down a corridor with an oval, full length mirror hung at one end. Desperately asking the Map for directions on opening the secret passageway. The Map obliged and Evan only looked up just in time to stop himself crashing into the mirror.

He raised his wand, ran it around the mirror clockwise, said "_inspeculus_", and circled it back anticlockwise. There was a peculiar feeling of vertigo, and his reflection swam, before disappearing. The image in the mirror was much the same, though on reflection/closer inspection it seemed to now be a window. Evan's reflection was gone, replaced by a decelerating Dumbledore.

Fearing that the Headmaster would be able to open the passage even if he'd didn't know how, Evan hurried down yet another staircase. As the spiral descended much further than Evan thought necessary, he realised that he wasn't sure where the tunnel went. It headed in the direction of Hogsmeade but the map didn't show where.

The tunnel was much straighter than the rabbit run to Honeydukes, and thankfully tall enough that Evan could stand up. It was also wetter, and Evan twice stepped in ankle deep puddles. The journey to Hogsmeade also seemed shorter, but he wasn't sure how much of that was because of the more direct path. Eventually the tunnel ended in two doors, one of which seemed solid stone. Both had carvings, the stone of a scantily dressed veela like woman, the wooden a handsome, shirtless man.

The stone door didn't even have a handle, making Evan's choice for him. He pulled open the other door and was surprised to see a ladder. With a shrug, he began to climb, quickly reaching the top where he found a mirror hanging behind him. Shuffling to face it in the cramped space, Evan tried to deduce how it worked. Curious, he touched it and the image wavered, changing into what looked like an empty restaurant bathroom.

Guessing it worked the same way as the other mirror, he circled his wand, said the password and circled the other way. Nothing happened. He sagged back against the ladder, it couldn't have a different password could it? He wasn't even sure what inspeculus meant, it sounded like something to do with spectacles not mirrors. Drawing circles in the air it occurred to him that he was on the other side of the mirror. He leant forward to test his theory and was rewarded when circling anticlockwise first resulted in him standing at a sink.

He threw the cloak back on and made his way into the restaurant, hoping no one would pay attention to the door. Evan was surprised to find the 'restaurant' was none other than the Three Broomsticks. He could see why it caving in had upset the twins so much. He invisibly slipped across the crowded room and waited by the oak front door.

A short wait and he was out into the crisp early morning air. He walked down the lane to where he'd first appeared before disappearing with a crack.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Surprise! I'm not dead. Though this story may be dying. I'm going to keep at it off and on, but I make no promises. A couple of minor edits have been made. Expect to see a deluge of unrelated plot bunnies in the next couple of weeks. Hopefully setting them somewhat loose will get me more in the mood to finish this. It is mostly plotted, just got to write it.

Yes, Evan should've made the Room of Requirements into a secret passage, but then he wouldn't have been chased out of the castle by a geriatric.

I will just take a moment to answer a couple of points brought up in people's reviews:

The plan is for this to be wrapped up quite quickly. Evan's future knowledge has lead to an unbalanced playing field (for now). So don't expect a full account of Al's years at Hogwarts. In fact as you may have deduced from the chapter titles, I hope to finish this in seventeen.

On the subject of pairings, I don't see this story lasting long enough for the kids to get to that point. And even if does, neither Evan/Ginny (_way_ too creepy) or Al/Ginny will be happening. I have an idea about Ginny I'm still toying with. Evan might find someone, if Al gets his way. It's admittedly weak so far, but the main interactions I was interested in exploring were Evan, Al and Sirius'.

As for the prophecy, yeah, it's contrived, but that's just Fate being a whiny witch trying to get what she wants.

Nefra – you give me too much credit, that explanation was more of a retro-active handwave than anything else.

George17 – I'm going to cop-out and say that Fate was working to ensure Pettigrew's escape. Maybe portkeys are harder to block or something? Yeah, I'm not happy with it either, but I'm not that concerned.

And I can't believe you would condemn occasional silliness, it's good for the soul.

Next up: **The Consorting Rat**


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